


Rebirth

by Orionali



Category: Castlevania: Lords of Shadow, Castlevania: Mirror of Fate, 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Post-Canon, Religious Discussion, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, This Fic is Being Updated, This began as a fan-ending to the final game, but the author doesn't know how to code, so she wrote it out instead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-10-29 13:26:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10854921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orionali/pseuds/Orionali
Summary: Zobek is dead, Lucifer has been vanquished, the Vampire Killer recovered, and Wygol saved. What awaits the Prince of Darkness and his Heir now? A Reverie, a Resurrection, a Revelation, a Rebirth.





	1. Beyond the End

**Author's Note:**

> This is another fanfic I've decided to cross-post from FanFiction.Net. I will only upload the revised/2.0 version here, but it can take a bit since it's still in progress. To avoid spoilers, I recommend you **DO NOT** read the version found on FanFiction.Net. It's outdated. 
> 
> Disclaimer: to fully immerse yourself in this fic, you must know the Bible and canon Biblical characters/artifacts. I will be referencing the Book of Genesis, Book of Job, and the Book of Revelations, mostly. 
> 
> Castlevania (c) Konami, MercurySteam

* * *

 

Uncertainty gnawed at her like a hungry parasite.

With her slim fingers tracing symbols into the yearlong layer of dust, she picked up a bronze candlestick with her other hand. Seconds later, a weak light began its dance on the sleek surfaces of many goblets, plates and ancient weaponry stored in equally-old cabinets and cupboards. Despite a faint draft whistling through the cracks, it could not stir up the decades worth of grime and dirt which had taken hold of this part of the church. The flame barely illuminated the small chamber, but it was enough for now.

Marie Belmont or – how she was known among the Heavenly Hosts – the Keeper of the Dragon, made her way to the door on the opposite side of the room, mindful of any obstacles obscuring her path. When she finally reached the unfolding steps, she knew she was heading the right way. Being the immortal Keeper, she had all the time she needed to explore the tangible illusion of the castle and the city, built directly on its damned foundations... and yet she had not visited this area before. Now her senses were telling her that the ones she sought stood on the very rooftop of the church it all had begun from. Where the Dragon had awoken from his once-perpetual sleep.

Markings in the dust had indicated that the door had been opened before, and quite recently too. She set aside the half-melted candle and examined the door. Not only had it been opened for the first time since the construction of the once-proud house of God, but its hinges had been thoroughly oiled. The black gooey substance glittered in the candle-flame. If they had been rusted from decades of disuse, Marie knew she would not have been able to force her way through. Now the door surrendered without a single hitch, without a single noise.

Sunlight poured into the chamber, setting even the grimiest of goblets aglow. Of all things, sunlight had been widely considered to be the ultimate bane of any creature of the night, yet Marie knew it posed no threat to her husband. However, while the Prince of Darkness was not directly affected, his Heir could not boast of the same.

Noon had entered its domain not long ago, its heavenly rays of warmth reawakening the almost extinguished hope in the hearts of the people. In a single night, the city's streets were disfigured by such atrocities it had never dreamed of before: legions of demons had invaded this plane of existence, with one thought in mind: to sow death and destruction. For only when chaos and disorder have taken a hold of a society, could the King of Hell be summoned. Five hours had passed since that fateful calling and now, tired of living in fear of the unknown, people of Wygol emerged from hiding out into the smoky ruins of their city. Blissfully ignorant of the truth. For only a few people of this earth knew of what had transpired when the Devil had finally stepped upon this plain. Marie was one of them.

Two figures stood in the shadow – short as it might be – of one of the church's towers. One, a white-haired warrior encased in a protective jet black shell of an armor, the other wore a crimson coat embroidered with gold and silver trimming.

Watching them made Marie's heart skip a beat. Neither of them had noticed her arrival and kept talking, most likely reflecting on the past. The woman could not be sure: whatever words they uttered were lost in the wind. A deep breath combated her nauseous feeling of apprehension.

Only when she approached them, hem of her brilliant white dress whispering against the rock, did they turn around. Watching their shocked faces... Marie could not hold back a smile. "It is so good to see you two bonding. Fills my heart with joy."

"Marie?" The Prince of Darkness seemed puzzled, yet genuine relief surfaced in his voice. "I was worried. Ever since the book and the Throne Room... I was afraid I'd never see you again."

"I am here, Gabriel; I am always here." She approached him, a smile quirking her lips. "Even when you think I'm not."

Gabriel's pallid face lit up and Marie could feel his smirk widening, even as she gave the white-haired warrior a tight hug, mindful of the sharp ridges of his armor.

"How have you been, Mother?" he said, returning the embrace. "Ah, this reminds me. Mother has been helping me on my quest to recover your relics, Father."

"Truly?" The former knight gave her an adoring glance. "Then it seems she's not a figment of my imagination after all."

"I'm fine." Marie's lips twitched. "But how are you, Trevor? I've been told you were... were possessed by the Devil for a spell."

"I was," Trevor – who had adopted a new name for himself: Alucard, the Wolf – replied, albeit a bit curtly. "After the Leviathan perished in a burst of light, I was knocked unconscious and Lucifer seized the oppo-"

"No-no, do not try to explain." Marie raised her hands. "I'm not here to blame you, my boy."

Indeed, the Devil had tried evening the scales by challenging his arch-nemesis to a duel in the sky whilst controlling the body of his son, like a puppeteer pulling a marionette's strings. After suffering a crippling defeat, Satan tried saving his own hide by whisking his form away. Unfortunately for him, the legendary Vampire Killer, the only weapon sanctified by God Himself, found his black heart first. However, only the destruction of his material form – one of harpy-like legs and jet-black wings – followed. Lucifer's soul, most likely, was exiled to Hell once more.

"Luckily, he won't bother us any longer." Gabriel's – who, at the moment, donned the title of Dracul, the Dragon – smirk became just a little bit vicious. "It took him one thousand years to prepare this invasion, now it will take him three, if he decides to show his face again."

"Where do you think he is now?" Alucard blew a strand of hair out of his face.

"I'm not sure. Hopefully back in whatever cesspool he calls home."

"Perhaps. Although, I think Lucifer will not try to reclaim his throne on earth, or his place in Heaven after today."

"Never underestimate the fallen angel's stubbornness."

Marie listened to her men conversing, smiling widely. Just how soothing their voices sounded after all this time. Being the Keeper meant she had unlimited power of observing them, but she lacked the authority to interact with either of them. The vow had been lifted when Alucard pulled out the enchanted blade – his trusty Crissaegrim – out of Dracul's chest and set their plan in motion.

"What happens now? Do you have any plans?" she asked her family, involuntarily fidgeting with the sleeves of her dress.

"Now?" The elder vampire raised an eyebrow. "I haven't really thought about it. The battle concluded several hours ago." His eyes widened. "Why do you ask? Is there a problem?"

Marie startled – were her emotions written so blatantly on her face? "Sadly, yes." She bowed her head and breathed in to keep her heart from racing needlessly. "There is something I need to tell you. Something I did not have the time to say the first time we met."

Dracul and Alucard exchanged worried looks.

She sighed before speaking up, trying to keep her voice steady. "You see, long before," she gestured at the smoky ruins of Wygol city, "all... _this_ , I have been appointed the Keeper. The Watcher. I have kept you safe, my love, whilst you slept. I did not allow anyone to disturb your rest. But now..." Her voice turned wistful against her will. "The King of Hell has been vanquished and there is no purpose for me, anymore. I am… my soul is trapped within the castle halls."

Silence reigned for a few seconds before Gabriel finally spoke up, "Is there a way to set you free?"

"There is. I've heard of an artifact; its power, legends say, can break all spiritual bonds, all earthly chains. But… but, Gabriel, would you do this?" A shiver ran down her spine. "I can stay, I truly can! By your side. Til… til the very Heavens do us part."

Back when the dreaded Lords of Shadow were just dethroned and the Devil exiled from the primal plane, he had pleaded, begged her to stay. To not enter Heaven, to live with him just like before. Before her death. Even after her premature departure and the return of the God Mask to its rightful owner, she could hear him finally collapse to his knees, cry and scream hopelessly at the skies. Could their tale have been forged differently if she'd had the power to stay? Marie bit her lip: she knew the answer was no. Gabriel's ruin was predestined by forces, higher than Lucifer himself. He would have fallen nevertheless, with or without the Forgotten One's power.

And yet... especially after centuries of mute observation Marie had noticed just how much her husband had changed. Bizarrely enough, in an unambiguously good way. A constant frown woven into his brow had disappeared, the red light in his hellish eyes had died out. He smiled more and with each passing hour she could see more and more of her Gabriel – the man she had fallen in love with – and less of Dracul – the twisted creature she had come to internally despise.

Marie flinched when he briskly moved closer; Gabriel was just a bit taller than her, but he still managed to tower over her. He cupped her hands into his, mindful of the claws adorning his fingers.

"Marie." Hot weather hadn't stopped goosebumps from prickling her skin. "Everything I did… I did for you. But now I only want you to be happy – you deserve it." His smile was feigned, she could see that. "And I know I cannot provide that."

He was letting her go? After all what happened, he was letting her go? He had set out on his quest solely because of her; he said it himself. He cared not for the world nor its problems... and now this... she barely believed her ears.

"Do you mean it? Do you really mean it?" She swallowed her tears.

"Yes." He leaned in and let their foreheads touch, his ice against her fire. She felt short of breath. "I love you more than anything else in this world. You have given me a reason to live. You are a perfect woman who had gifted me with an equally perfect son. You gave me so much. You sacrificed so much. Well..." He paused to draw breath. "Now I repay my debt."

"I will find a way," Marie murmured. "I will find a way for you both to join me in this eternal celebration of life. I promise."

Gabriel did not reply, instead holding her gaze steadfast... and it brimmed with heartache. With dismay. His thumb gently wiped away her tears – when had she begun weeping? – staining her cheeks.

"Now... where can I find this item?" His cold hands slid down her shoulders.

"We. Where can _we_ find this item?" Shuffling footsteps, followed by a clank and, Alucard stepped forward, his golden eyes solemn. "There is no way I would leave Mother in the grasp of the castle's demon."

A surge of pride resurfaced in Marie and her mouth melted into a gentle grin. "The castle holds the key. That is everything I know at the moment. Perhaps more details will show up whilst you proceed. Sorry, I'm not much of a help."

"Nonsense, Marie-

"But you helped us-"

"I can grant you access whenever you are ready." Her smile grew in strength at their indignant expressions and determined nods. She let out a small laugh as a faint light blinked into existence right into her palm. She had transported Trevor in such a fashion before, but not Gabriel. "Just take my hand, my love."

A cloak of periwinkle light whirled up around them, shrouding them in its radiance. A blink and they were gone, sent back to the mirage of the once impenetrable fortress.

* * *

Illusions and apparitions could easily betray one's eyes in this place.

A creature of chaos had made the castle its home, centuries before the Lords of Shadow had come. It had been said that the Bernhard family, who originally owned the structure, had made a pact with a demonspawn to deter unwanted visitors from their lands. The Bernhards' innate ability to wrestle vicious monsters from their home plane – one of which had been the Sovereign, the greatest of demons! – had proved to be essential to their plan.

The fiend had merged with the very stony foundations of the castle, bringing them to life. Corridors and tunnels shifted everyday, making it impossible to map. During Carmilla's reign, many a knight of the Brotherhood had perished in their futile attempts to do so. They had either starved to death or fell prey to the legions of the Vampire Queen. The castle itself had appeared to be passive, for it lacked the power to intervene.

Carmilla had shrugged off any the creature's attempts to bind her to the structure, preferring to retain her independence. It made her mortal; even as a vampire, she could die at the hands of another. So it was prophesied, and so it happened. The Queen met her premature end at the hands of Gabriel Belmont, a Champion of God.

The infernal creature pitied not Carmilla, or her adoptive 'daughter.' Without a Lord roaming its halls, the castle fell into a slumber.

Its sleep would have lasted centuries, if not for unforeseen consequences. The Sovereign had tried breaching the final seal, fueled by rage for centuries of captivity, but the Champion had stopped his progress. The demise of his fellow fiend did not affect the structure, instead, it had focused its immediate attention on the single human being in its corridors. Deaf and dying, the man's failing legs had carried him only so far before he had succumbed to his wounds. His entire frame – dead as it might be – had pulsed with familiar power. The demon instantly recognized it as the Sovereign's, its former master's. Intrigued, the being had shifted its influence to the dead man, but before it could tap into his power, he had risen. The same curse that had plagued the former Queen and sustained by the blood of her daughter, now had taken roots in this human.

The man had roamed, endlessly and aimlessly, unaware of his surroundings, completely overtaken by the eternal hunger of the undeath. The castle's demon had dogged his every footstep and had become his shadow, unavoidably drawn to the source of the power like a moth to a flame. It had recognized the man: it had been the same knight who had put an end to Carmilla's reign. Carmilla had dismissed its gifts, but this human was weak, disoriented, had no true realization of the strength he had stolen. The demon then had gnawed and chewed on the man's thoughts – replacing damaged ones, making its own mind his - until its very essence had fused the man's soul, essentially making him the demon's puppet.

A puppet with carefully hidden strings, so the doll would not even guess his actions were being controlled. The castle brimmed with delight – it finally had a master. A catalyst which would slake its hunger for power and freedom.

* * *

"I... I don't recognize this place," Dracul said, glancing about. "I've never been in this part of the castle before."

Alucard frowned. "Many centuries have I spent memorizing every stone of this place, but, like you, I am clueless about our whereabouts. Where do you think Mother has sent us?"

Gray walls, devoid of any decoration, stared back at them. The mosaic once adorning the floor had crumbled to dust beyond recognition. Moonlight glittered through the multitude of holes in the ceiling. Other parts of the castle boasted of exquisite tapestries, rugs, and statues. And this hallway... it created a fleeting impression of someone having removed all the decoration on purpose. Because the place was abandoned? Why would the demon lock off this wing? Certainly not because of its decrepit state.

"Gives off an impression of a gallery," the elder vampire noted. "It looks like as though, art had enriched this wing with its vibrancy. Once."

Alucard slowly nodded. "Best we move forward. It seems the castle hasn't noticed us on its territory yet. I've had my share of jailer-slaying for one day."

"Indeed. Its avatar may be destroyed, but it still holds sway over the legions."

Their footsteps scraped against the cracked floors, unsettling a brood of bats nesting in one of the fissures. Leathery wings throbbed against the air, and soon their chirping was silenced by the wind. Its symphony sounded as it should, but the end took on a shrill note. Now it resembled a distorted scream.

"Did you hear that?" Alucard stopped in his tracks.

"Yes." Gabriel warily scanned their surroundings. "Obviously the serene appearance of this art gallery cannot be wholly trusted."

Wind murmured along his voice, as if listening to it. It bubbled, hissed before altering itself into a deep, all-too familiar tone.

" _Is it really you?_ " The words resonated from the walls, echo over-layering in wondrous patterns. " _What, came to gloat at the former Sovereign of Darkness?_ "

That voice, coupled with its peculiar choice of words, had haunted him for many years – Gabriel identified its owner in mere seconds. The revelation did not amuse him, but more so baffled him.

"Forgotten One?" he questioned the wind, keeping his voice calm.

Another shrill scream interrupted whatever the archfiend had to say – or, perhaps, it was _his_ own distorted cry? – and the apparition vanished as boldly as it appeared. Dracul stared for a few seconds, before shrugging off the surprise.

"Forgotten One?" Trevor repeated in a curious tone, "that's the demon who had threatened the erasure all of mankind, right?"

The elder startled. "How do _you_ know about him? The battle happened when you were just a mere infant!"

Words could not express how much he had loathed seizing the demon's power. Was it the only possible outcome in defeating the creature? During all these years he, had justified his actions by stating he had done so to protect the humanity, but he knew it not to be true. And the three-century war that followed had only proven it.

"Back in the Order, I stumbled across a few books on him in the restricted area of the libary. Plus I noticed an inscription in one of the rooms while carrying out my duty of restoring your Chaos power."

"An inscription... The only mention of him I made..." Gabriel's shoulders sank. "Where exactly did the castle hide Chaos?"

Alucard gave a weak smile. "Mother described it as the place 'where you had lost your mind after defeating the Forgotten One.'"

"The Forbidden Wing?" Dracul recoiled. "You've been to the Forbidden Wing?"

"If you prefer to call it that."

"Trevor, it's forbidden for a reason! What did you see there?"

"Plenty of things. Heard a lot, too."

Gabriel stared back at Trevor in mild surprise and disbelief before snapping back to reality. His son made it clear: he wouldn't elaborate on what he had witnessed in that particular part of the castle. In the end, he chose to focus his attention on the more important matter: the unexpected revival – recovery? – of his old adversary.

"We should move," he stated, glancing in the direction of the resonating voices. "Honestly, I am curious at the demon's sudden arrival."

"As am I," Alucard muttered.

A dying echo guided the vampires towards a passageway, framed by crumbled statues of demi-humanoid demons. Was the Forgotten One leading them into a trap? The former Sovereign had proven to be quite blunt and straightforward in their first – and admittedly, last – encounter. Still, whatever means had resurrected the creature could have made him more devious and somber. Many a winter had passed since they battled.

"Has the castle always looked like this?" Alucard's tone became a hushed whisper.

Indeed, the hallway appeared... different from what he had come to expect from the castle's sentient cobblestone in the centuries he'd spent in its embrace. Peculiar swirls, circles, and soft, edgeless shapes covered the walls in its intricate alien pattern. They alone visually broadened the narrow twists of corridors running into the depths of the structure. He raised his head – similar teardrop shapes adorned the otherwise ruined ceiling. For a moment, Dracul mused on their design: the forms reminded him of the ridges on the Forgotten One's colossal armor. Had he managed to alter the very stones despite his alleged destruction? How could the castle not notice this?

They followed the flowing ornamentation, each of their steps forcing other bizarre things to resurface. The hall bathed in a multitude of green and violet lights, which emanated from crystallized drops of unknown liquid on the walls. They seemed to grow out of the very stone itself, biting at the surrounding darkness like a hound with a thirst for blood.

Soon enough, the passageway evolved into a grand alcove, flooded with colors of such brilliancy, it made Gabriel's – accustomed to inky blackness – eyes water. As his sight adapted to the vibrancy, details came into view, such as a gargantuan stony representation of his old foe in the center of the chamber. The Forgotten One had one of his hands outstretched, as if reaching for Heaven, while the other remained at his side. Identical to the ones they had seen earlier, teardrops adorned the smooth curves of his enameled armor.

"Ah, here you are. I did not anticipate your visit. Or your scion's," the being intoned, voice radiating from the statue. "State your business, thief."

Gabriel disregarded the insult. "Shouldn't you be dead, creature?" He couldn't help but feel skeptical at this turn of events – he had undone the demon's life in a single swipe. And, yet, here he was – or rather the fiend's image – in his castle. Part of him sternly believed it was just a masterful illusion on the castle's part. Like the love-struck version of its former owner, Carmilla.

"I am dead," the Forgotten One replied. "I ceased to exist when you stole my powers and killed me."

"And still you are able to voice your thoughts."

The demon hummed. "The blood and soul of your victims feed the creature trapped inside this infernal place and, much as it is disgusts me, I became the first. But as it turned out it could only consume insignificant souls – human souls, to be precise. Me, being the Sovereign, a beast of immense power, it could not devour. In response, it imprisoned my soul in its stone. Or... this is how I understand it. I loathe that the creature originated from the same plane as I did."

"So, this is your _soul_ I am conversing to?" No matter how intently he listened to the demon's words, Dracul could not place any malice or hatred in his voice. The Forgotten One sounded more... pensive? Still, he decided not to let his guard down. He glanced at his son. Alucard held his hand on the Crissaegrim's hilt – he had returned to wielding his chosen blade, – brow furrowed.

"In a sense. And you're still in one piece." His voice was heavy with languor. "Just how many of your human 'years' have passed since our fateful fight?"

The demon's lethargic tone made Dracul raise an eyebrow. "Over one thousand."

"Intriguing. Time flows steadily within these bounds. No beginning, no end."

"Why would Marie send us to _him_ of all creatures?" Dracul addressed Alucard quietly. "He's a monster who threatened to wipe out humankind, once."

"I know." The white-haired warrior nodded in agreement. "But, perhaps he possesses the knowledge we seek."

"I highly doubt that."

"What other reason would Mother direct us to him for? Worth a shot, I say." Trevor appeared inexorable, much to Gabriel's sorrow.

"What is it that you seek?" A familiar low note settled down in the Forgotten One's voice.

"An item. An artifact which can break any kind of bond any kind of chain tangible, or not." Alucard stepped forward, not letting his eyes off the demon.

The archfiend went silent. Only a faint hum emanating from his stony features proved he had not distanced himself from the vampires. "You seek the Trumpet, then," he eventually said, obviously choosing his words.

"A trumpet?" Why did it sound so familiar?

"Not an ordinary Trumpet, Gabriel. The instrument once belonged to one of Heaven's Chosen... incidentally, your namesake, I believe. It was stolen by Lucifer when he first fell. So God could not intervene with his business. God is omniscient and omnipotent, yes, but even He cannot descend to Earth without it."

Oh, that's why. The legendary trio of saintly Archangels – Raphael, Michael and Gabriel – called Heaven their home and according to the Book of Revelations, the being he was named after would blow his trumpet to announce the Judgment Day. The Lord's second coming to this land. A moment when the dead would rise and there would be no further separation of Heaven and Earth. Fortunately – or unfortunately, depending on the perspective – he had taken care of the latter prior these events.

"I am truly surprised you're acquainted with the Bible, creature. Our one and only book of God... ironically, written by men." He placed his hands on his hips.

"I'm pleasantly surprised, Father," Alucard said with a slight smile. "Don't you harbor any hatred towards it?"

"No hatred lasts forever." He shifted his shoulders as he faced the Forgotten One. "Where can we find the Horn?"

"I do not know where its resting place lies," the One said. "Unlike the Mask you spent so long to retrieve, it's not of this plane. You are required to enter other realms to find that, what you seek," he trailed off.

The pause the demon took after uttering the last sentence filled Gabriel with disquiet. Yet he said nothing, waiting for the fiend to, presumably, recover.

"I believe your power is more than capable of ripping through the matter of reality," he stated after the heavy silence turned unbearable.

"In my hands, yes," the Forgotten One quickly corrected him. "You, on the other hand, can manifest only the tiniest particle of my strength."

"If you're alluding to-"

"I'm not alluding to anything. I am fully aware I cannot reclaim the elements which you have snatched under my nose. However, my secondary powers can still be of some use."

"Secondary powers?" The Dragon's mouth twitched.

"I created not only Chaos and Void, but also their sisters: Harmony and Creation." The demon's voice became smug. "If combined, they could forge entire landscapes, bring to pass new creatures. I have used my primary skills to shatter the seal of my damned prison. That's why you wield only them."

"Where are Harmony and Creation now?"

"They are the only influences keeping me stable in this husk, so, I presume, they are not far. The castle certainly has an odd sense of humor, and hid them near me to prolong my cursed existence."

"And how can these energies help us?" He tapped a pointy finger against his lips, intrigued.

"You, personally?" Aspiration showed through the demon's otherwise emotionless voice. "Not much. Combining two opposite forces seldom ends well. On the other hand, if _I_ am to reunite with them, I could reconstruct my body and leave this place far behind."

Gabriel let out a half-amused chuckle – leave this place far behind? After the humiliation that was his defeat in the Underworld? The One must have grown morose and hopeless to actually propose a deal like this. Yet, he decided to hold back the acidic response rolling off his tongue.

"And what do you offer in return for your freedom?" Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Alucard giving him an incredulous glare, and he shrugged lazily.

"Passage to your goal."

His laughter died out, giving way to a suspicious stare. Had he heard the demon correctly?

"You have stated that only the Void can open-" he began.

"I never said that the Void is the _only_ thing which can transport you." The Forgotten One sounded pleased. "Let's just say... I have managed to salvage one of my artifacts from the castle's clingy mitts. It isn't as accurate as the Void, but, frankly, you have no choice in the matter."

The last sentence raked coarsely across the vampire's ears. He never had freedom of will in anything, it seemed. Always tugged on the leash, like a pup, while others guided him inevitably to his destiny. In the end, he decided not to dwell on these cheerless thoughts – he had already dedicated a few decades solely to them – and concentrated instead on the demon's words.

"You are just a fraction of your soul and you possess the means of entering new dimensions?" He tapped the knuckles of his hand against the hip.

"Oh, believe me, Gabriel; never underestimate what a mere fraction of one's soul can do," the Forgotten One said. "So, do we have a deal? You free me of this husk and I leave you and your scion to whatever noble quest you initially set out on. With the means of getting where you need."

"I don't trust you." Dracul rewarded his old foe with a dark glare. "You'd stab us in the back, given half of an opportunity."

The demon lowered his voice to a murmur. "You would be surprised to know that I have absolutely no intention of betraying you. Consider: you defeated me _without_ my powers. Guess what would happen, if I attacked you? It is ludicrous, impossible. And I am a prudent being: I would not throw my second chance away because of some petty revenge. It is Lucifer who is known as the King of Lies. I, myself, tend to keep my promises."

"Care to give an example?"

"Gladly. Your presence alone proves that at least one of my, ahem... _boasts_ during our battle came true. _'You shall suffer. You will never find peace in light, nor darkness_?' Sound familiar?"

"How droll," the elder vampire muttered under his breath. He glanced at Alucard and sighed. "Fine. We will retrieve your powers so you could send us to other realms."

"Splendid!" The Forgotten One's tone picked up. "Do not dally. I want to get out of this shell as much as you want to attend to your Trumpet business."

* * *

"Do you trust him?" Alucard crossed his arms.

"Not in the slightest," Dracul replied. "Unfortunately, the Forgotten One has perfected a win-win scenario for himself. He will free himself of the shell, either way. Of course, we have the choice of declining his offer..." He pursed his lips. "I would rather not get tangled in whatever design the demon is hatching, but we don't have an alternative."

Alucard nodded, a determined glint in his amber eyes. "Then we will comply with his wishes, for a bit. See where it gets us."

"Frankly, I am not afraid of him backstabbing us," the elder said. "If it comes to that, I will be sure to destroy him permanently. But, the time we desperately need. It would slip through our fingers."

"Indeed, the castle never sleeps. We must hurry."

The vampires obediently followed a glittering trail etched in the metamorphosed floors, as well as walls and ceiling, courtesy of the imprisoned one. Its arrhythmical pulse reminded Gabriel of a heartbeat - where had the Forgotten One drawn inspiration for this? He was sure the demon lacked anything even closely resembling a heart. A core, perhaps?-

Gabriel knew not the One's true motivation for trying to erase mankind... beside vengeance, of course. Revenge was indeed a powerful emotion, but ultimately flawed. After he had carried out the mission, exiling Lucifer and his ilk to the deepest crevice of Hell, and sending Zobek to the Netherworld, he had had all the time in the world to think on his goals. He had paid a terrible price, and made sure others did so, as well. And, now... He couldn't banish the thought of the emptiness of his life.

"Oh, great." Trevor's muttered breath made him jolt. "It seems our conversation has not gone unnoticed."

A puddle of oily blood bubbled and foamed on the ground, gradually drowning the hallway in its crimson light.

The white-haired warrior took a defensive stance and unsheathed his weapon, enchanted blade glimmering in the conflicting colors of red and green.

The elder's clawed fingers dug deep into his palm, drawing his own blood and bringing forth his eldritch whip.

Last time, the castle had tried – admittedly, with success – converting his own legions against him, forcing even the most loyal vampire to forget who its master and lord was.

A second later, and a deformed hand formed out of the boiling substance, clawing fruitlessly at the air, as it quickly grew with detail. A hulking beast emerged from the depths, a grotesque monstrosity Dracul had never seen before. It had six skeletal limbs, each ending with a pincer, skinless muscles, and an eyeless muzzle. Blood dripped from its throbbing hide, flowing down like streams. They appeared not to have an end, streaming infinitely, as the floor absorbed the fluid, hungrily, till the last drop. The beast opened its vicious maw, showing off several rows of rotten teeth, and roared.

" _Do not trust the demon-imposter."_ An amalgamation of a thousand voices of the castle echoed in his ears.

" _He's planning to dethrone you, my Lord."_

" _We've imprisoned him for a reason."_

" _Come with us, my Liege!"_

The scarlet whip whistled through the air, colliding with its target and leaving a pulsating wound in the monster's tissue, immediately reducing its screech to a pathetic whimper. The vampire lowered his hand: the attack was a warning. A warning for the castle not to become tangled in their affairs.

The beast reeled and promptly shrugged off the hit, as, at the same time, the vampire gasped with sudden pain. Beads of blood rolled off his chest, trickling from a freshly-made rupture. A thought flashed through his mind. A blood fiend! The thing was made out of his own ichor! Apparently, the castle had come up with a better plan instead of sending waves of lesser vampires and mindless skeletons. He must watch them from afar, if he was to avoid injuring himself. Gabriel wasn't surprised; the castle had attempted something similar in the past, but not as open and bold as this encounter.

" _We had no choice, my Prince!"_ The castle's pleas pulsed in his mind. _"It was the only way!"_

"Damn that influence to the bowels of Sheol!" he hissed, involuntarily stepping back.

"What happened?" Alucard questioned, shooting a worried glance in his direction.

"It has assured I wouldn't fight these creatures!"

"And the reli-" Alucard broke off as he ducked under the beast's claw. It might have shielded itself from any incoming attacks, but it certainly had trouble manipulating its lumbering form. With a trained warrior's eye, Gabriel noticed that the younger vampire had plenty of opportunities to counterattack and dispose of the monster, but, ultimately, he had decided against it. An unaccustomed feeling of uncertainty surged through his mind.

After another parry, the Wolf rammed his gauntlet-clad fist into its stomach, toppling the much-taller beast off its legs. Alucard dashed back, still holding the Crissaegrim aloft. Did the beast return all of his attacks, or was it vulnerable to magic?

_"Do not interfere, Alucard!"_

" _Please, don't make us use force!"_

As the beast squealed, its cries echoing off the fervently painted hallway, Dracul's blade blinked into existence, hushing and drowning out any other color around it. Hoarfrost began drawing wondrous patterns as the tip of the sword dug into the floor. Dracul traced a complete circle with it, aiming, and reaped the air before the monster in a singular vertical cut.

Void slid off the surface of the sword, materializing into a tangible frozen fire. The blaze enveloped the beast, momentarily chaining all of its limbs with a shell of purple ice. He patiently waited for an aftershock, but none followed. Indeed, the being was immobilized, its bloody hide in perfect condition.

"It would seem it reflects only physical blows dealt to its body," Dracul noted, lowering the blade, but not unsummoning it. He approached the frozen being, scrutinizing its features. "Truly disgusting. The castle's obstinacy knows no bounds."

"Indeed, it is in abundance here." Alucard sheathed his sword. "But the problem is still unsolved: how can we get rid of this... this..."

"Blood fiend."

"Blood fiend?"

"It is composed of my blood," the former knight elaborated. "And seeing as I draw my strength from it, basically, leads to a backlash every time I strike it. I have suffered through something similar before."

"How so?" Alucard's back remained stiff, despite his seemingly relaxed posture.

Dracul shuddered, distaste curling his lips. "Earlier this night, the castle conjured the image of one of the late Lords, Carmilla. And... No, this isn't important! If summed up, she had tested my physical abilities."

Trevor nodded, smirking just a bit. "It's a curious sight to spy you uncomfortable, Father."

"Uncomfortable, indeed," he muttered. "Anyway, we have larger problems. The castle has found a way to cripple me. It knows perfectly I would not battle against this foul spawn if I wish to retain my individuality."

"I thought you'd decided to shelve your death." Alucard's eyes brimmed with disquiet. "Why would it grow this desperate if nothing threatens its existence?"

"I am slowly, but steadily, beginning to shed the thoughts it keeps planting in my mind." The elder looked away. "Ones of ferocity and fury. Hence, I resist its call. It might be uppish enough to lead a revolt, but without me, it is nothing. And it knows it."

Alucard did not reply, but the heartwarming glimmer reflecting in his golden eyes said everything he needed to know. A weak smile twitched the corners of his mouth.

"Perhaps _I_ can destroy the creature; no bond connects me with the castle's being." He idly fingered the hilt of his weapon. "Crissaegrim saps away magic, so it _shouldn't_ affect you."

"Yes, I remember that peculiar ability of your sword quite well. Can't say I've recovered my strength completely. Well, my hands are tied, and time is of the essence... Proceed as you will."

The enchanted blade slithered out of its scabbard with a metallic hiss as it jumped obediently into the younger vampire's hands. The weapon must be at least partially sentient, then, Dracul concluded. He didn't know much about how and when his son had procured such a sword. He only understood that Alucard had used the broken stake of the Vampire Killer as its hilt, hence its spell-draining attacks.

Gabriel mentally prepared himself for the being to retaliate as the warrior approached the paralyzed beast. The last sting had _hurt_ , despite it being just a shallow, unfocused hit.

Alucard's sigh echoed through the air, when at last he swept through the monster's abdomen, cleaving it neatly into two.

A horrific screech filled the stuffy air, and the former knight startled at the sheer viciousness of the attack. Alucard had repeated the execution move he had utilized as Zobek's Lieutenant. Back then, he had carved one of Lucifer's demons to ribbons.

The elder peered down at the floor. No pain followed after his son had dealt the blow, yet he felt uneasy at the way Alucard had chosen to tear asunder the mindless creature. Undeath was a curse, and he had shown more control over his untamed, monstrous side than Dracul could ever hope, but still hints of it seeped through Trevor's carefully fitted armor.

"It is done." The warrior shook the red droplets off of his blade before sheathing it away. "Shall we proceed?"

"Yes, of course," Dracul nodded. "We've loitered long enough."

* * *

"So, this is the Forgotten One's power?" The elder raised an eyebrow. "How peculiar."

He watched the entity warily as the ectoplasmic being bobbed up and down in the air with regular intervals. Its shifting colors – an intriguing mixture of matte green and intense violet – seemed to fill the very air with their flamboyance. It was as if the undertones were... sentient, locked in an eternal dance. Dracul had a feeling, if he would have reached out, he could feel the colors surge around his hand like a gentle breeze, intangible and palpable at the same time. This celebration, he thought, could create entire landscapes, bring forth existing creatures or forge new ones from scratch. What could have been undone by the Void, Creation could beget. What Chaos could have razed to the ground, Harmony could put back into order.

The colors had broken their flow at the sound of his voice, further proving his theory. Anticipating something. Anticipation meant intelligence. The Forgotten One had mentioned Creation and Harmony being his secondary powers, yet they radiated with such unknown intensity that it made his skin crawl. Moreover, the entities were aware of their presence now. For better, or worse, they still had to find out.

The unknown entity's visage – or something akin to it – distorted, sending the colorful spirits astray. In a moment, the dance stopped, bluntly and unexpectedly. The specters formed two circles around the being in the center, both moving counterclockwise at different speed.

" _Aesor ur?_ " the being intoned, genderless voice echoing off the walls. Though its voice lacked any emotion, Dracul could sense hidden displeasure in the movement pattern of the spirits. It was rigid... nothing like their spiral dance before. His hands curled into fists.

" _Saba? Ecral?_ " it questioned, shifting a bit closer. " _Stelahru saba-aio ecral uvihr. Aekubon uvihr te Ieoroch. Glohro Ieoroch?_ "

"Ieoroch?" the elder repeated, eyes narrowing.

"And this... is ancient Enochian," the Forgotten One suddenly pronounced, forcing the vampire to flinch. "My secondary powers are sentient; ergo, they're rather squeamish. Forgot to mention this. You better talk to it. See if you can persuade it to come with you to-" the demon's voice died out before he could finish his sentence; evidently in his current state he could not hold an even conversation.

" _Ieoroch!_ " the creature squeaked, its features flickering.

"Ancient Enochian?" Dracul wavered. "Ieoroch... you mean the Forgotten One?"

A bright pulse warped the specters around the being. " _Ur."_

"I guess that's a 'yes'," Dracul concluded, albeit with hesitation. "We're acting on his behalf. We're here to reunite you with your master."

" _Ieoroch doi,_ " it replied, once again bobbing up and down.

"How do we ferry you?"

" _Saba. Ecral._ " The entity's visage rippled. " _Saba aio ecral phele simula te acou aio lohn._ "

" _'Simula?'_ As in 'simulacrum?'" The vampire rubbed the nape of his neck. "Images... could you be referring to my powers, Chaos and Void?"

"Perhaps, they mean they can be transported using Chaos and Void?" Alucard suggested, gazing at the translucent specters.

"The demon had said it would be unwise to come into contact with this energy."

"Come into contact, yes. But, what about... nudging them in the right direction?"

"Or perhaps they're telling me _not_ to use it. It could engulf the entire room in an inferno."

"You're saying this as if you can die, Father." Alucard snorted. "Plus, fire to you is as harmful as water to a human."

Dracul tried glowering at his progeny for this quip, but, instead, found himself smirking. Truly, the warrior's lighthearted smile was contagious and he savored the moment. Rarely did he get to see his son so delighted. "Mock the elderly now, do you?"

Trevor rewarded him with an unimpressed glance, the remnants of his earlier grin playing at the corners of his mouth. "It's my favorite pastime, _old man_."

"Do not be presumptuous, _boy_. Fine, for you, I'll try." He sighed and laughed softly to himself. "You did cull the beast without spilling my insides. More of a reason to trust your judgment."

Unlike the sword, locked away secure in a pocket dimension, his infernal gloves were always with him. The Chaos Claws roared into life, coiling around his wrists and covering his arms up to his elbows in a fiery shell. He flexed the gauntlets, sending drops of liquid fire into every direction. Where they met the ground, the floor hissed and cracked under the intense heat.

"I'm curious," Dracul said, as the specters gathered around the magical talons. "How did you know the castle's curse wouldn't retort to the blow you landed upon the creature?"

To his disappointment, only the purple-tinned ghosts swirled around his hands – their headless bodies seemed to dim out as they passed through the hot air - whilst the ones radiating with lush green stayed behind, unaffected. So, the violet must be the representation of Harmony.

Mindful not to let the specters soar too close to the flames, he took a small step back. When the spirits moved after him without delay, he let out a small hum.

"Opposites attract, huh," Dracul mused, glancing at his son. "Take my blade to guide the Creation energy. I hear, you're quite familiar with it."

"Dual-wielding is not exactly my preferred style," Alucard chuckled, masterfully catching the sword with one hand. "And yours isn't as perfectly balanced as mine."

The elder arched a dismissive eyebrow at him, trying to appear as disdainful as he possibly could. Although, he knew not if he had succeeded.

They trekked in silence for a bit, each pulling on his own string of the incorporeal being, the impersonation of the Forgotten One's power.

"To answer your earlier question. I'm not completely sure," Alucard suddenly spoke up after a while. "I know Crissaegrim effectively absorbs nearly all types of magic. But would it affect whatever power the castle's utilizing against you... I must admit, it was a Russian roulette and I apologize."

"A what?" The elder vampire perked up.

"Ah, I forget. It is a game of chance. One places a single bullet into the cylinder of a gun, puts it to his head, and pulls the trigger. One-sixth is your chance of blowing your head clean off your shoulders. I read it was invented as a way for soldiers to deal with mental strain during the first World War."

The elder's eyes widened at hearing the 'rules' of the game. However, he quickly composed himself. "Toying with death." He sneered. "I guess, Zobek had had quite a lot on his shoulders."

"Not anymore." Alucard shrugged.

"Not anymore," Dracul repeated. The words had never tasted so sweet.


	2. The Maelstrom

The entire floor shuddered and shook, shards of marble and rock threatening to bury the vampires under their blanket.

Dodging the falling debris, Dracul mulled over that reuniting the demon with his powers had not been the most brilliant idea. Twice. Perhaps, his former adversary had chosen this tactic in hopes of encasing them both into solid stone. Effectively disposing of them. The vampire ground his teeth together. Alucard appeared nowhere in sight, concealed by the clouds of pulverized cobble and soot.

A humongous crack ran down the Forgotten One's stony image. The vampire cursed under his breath, as a section of the southern wall caved in, but the next moment he spread his body in a cloud of particles. He had no intention of getting squashed by a giant slab of marble, even if it would not snuffle out the flame of his existence.

The mist snaked around the rubble, seeping through the cracks, steadily homing in on the demonic statue. Once right in front of it, the elder yanked the smog into a solid form once again.

A spectral wolf, woven out of cyan flames, landed near him and slowly melted into Alucard's humanoid form. Apart from a few bruises, he seemed to be fine.

A roar eclipsed the sound of the collapsing stone as the resurrected demon stepped out of his shell. The Forgotten One dusted off the remains of his material prison, stretching his wiry muscles, that dripped with green ooze. The titan-tall beast moved his palm and the familiar faceless spirits began circling around him, recreating the ridges, swirls, and curls of his enameled armor. Soon enough, the released archfiend stood before the vampires, easily towering over both of them. And with his resurrection, the cataclysm around them ceased as abruptly as it had begun.

The demon's beady eyes burrowed deep into his, yet Dracul did not flinch. Not now, nor during their previous encounter. The Sovereign and the Dragon glared at each other, both reliving the flashbacks of the encounter where destiny had decided to intertwine their paths.

With his muscles strained to a critical point, the vampire huffed disdainfully. He could not pinpoint what the archfiend was thinking – the ornamented mask covered his true visage – yet, he could see the demon's confident posture.

The Forgotten One was the first to look away, and the vampire cracked a malicious smile.

"So," the demon spoke up, cocking his crowned head to his side. "You upheld your part of the bargain, Gabriel. Truly, I'm impressed."

"Your compliment falls on deaf ears, beast, I assure you." Dracul folded his arms. "We had a deal. Now fulfill your promise."

"Ah, yes, the Trumpet." The Forgotten One sauntered past them. "A tool which can break any bond. What, pray tell, what are you going to do with it?"

"That is none of your concern," he said, setting after the giant.

"Well, whatever it is, it must be valuable indeed. You are very well aware of my power, knightling, aware that even without Chaos and Void, I can raze the cities of this realm of yours to the ground-"

"Mindless boasts got you this far."

"And, yet, you have freed me of my prison." The Forgotten One squatted down, peering at the vampire with distant curiosity. "What if I intend to stay here, in your mortal realm? To let my plan come into fruition at last, while you hop across the dimensions in search for your precious Trumpet?"

"I will stay here and supervise the beast." Alucard stepped forward, somehow managing to glare the demon down.

The archfiend let out an undaunted chuckle. "I have to disappoint you, Alucard. While you hold great potential, you are but a gnat compared to your father. He is the one to make the decision."

Was that a second compliment in the past few minutes? "I will strike you down without a second thought if you dare violate our deal." Dracul's eyes narrowed to slits.

" _'_ Release me of my imprisonment, and I will grant you passage to your goal.' That was our deal. I will keep my promise, but by the end of your quest, I will be far, far away. Or, how would you say, attending to my own affairs."

"Run as far as you will, with your tail tucked between your legs, beast, but it is only a matter of time before my jaws close on your throat." Acid dripped in his voice. "As I recall, you had surrendered your pathetic, sniveling excuse of a life to me. It will not be difficult for me to track you down once more, like the dog that you are, and collect that debt. Force you to address me, not by my birth name, but by ' _my Liege_ ' every _single_ day of your existence in servitude. Make the once-proud Sovereign bow down and kiss the ground I walk upon. You would be reduced to a witless cell, a plaything for my legions. And that would be just the beginning of your new life."

The Forgotten One fell completely silent, immobile, with not a single muscle twitching as if the Gorgon had petrified the former Sovereign with her alien, steadfast gaze. His expression, so cleverly hidden behind the mask, betrayed no emotion, no thought. Then, against all odds, a chortle escaped the demon's mouth, quickly ripening into a full-fledged laugh.

The vampire frowned upon this so-called reaction, but refrained from commenting. His earlier self would have butchered the demon for both his impudence, and his deceitfulness, but now he was perplexed, puzzled at the Forgotten One's actions. Was the demon truly sane, or had centuries of captivity left their imprint on his mind?

The laughter cut out, suddenly, as the demon rose to his feet, once again focused.

"You fancy yourself a judge?" the Forgotten One uttered solemnly. "The one and only to administer the lives of those beneath you. Dispatch them all to Purgatory, to be sorted out, like cattle. 'Send them all to a better life,' wasn't it?"

He pointed his clawed finger at the vampire. "But the time will come that you, yourself, will be judged before the Tribunal. Do you know what awaits you in the end?"

The fiend, much to Gabriel's displeasure, had a point. He might be God's Champion, but – he had a hunch – the title could only delay the trial, the holy retribution. All souls, upon release, passed through Purgatory, where the Justicars would determine one's fate in the afterlife: the salvation of Heaven, or the damnation of Hell. And he already knew which sentence they would carry out.

"You have lied not only to your Scion, but to yourself, as well," the Forgotten One continued, spreading his arms. "All those you have killed – that you presumed you'd sent to a 'better place' – ended up here. Within the confines of your castle!"

He let out a satisfied chuckle. "You have not been sending them to Heaven, but anchoring their souls to this place. Feeding them to the castle's creature, nourishing it, giving it sentience. Gradually letting it become a parasite to gorge upon your personality. You have been reduced to a mere slave, without the power to make your own decisions. And a slave cannot have servants on his own, now can he?"

The next moment, Dracul's blazing talons raked across the Forgotten One's leg. They rived through the protective shell as easily, as one cracks a chestnut, exposing the pulsating muscle underneath. He was not aware of his actions. All he wanted was to gag the arrogant demon, once and for all. And when the vampire's fingers dug deep into the green flesh, skewering the tissue, a gargled cry reached out for his ears. It made him smile. Perhaps, tearing away a limb would teach the fiend respect.

The giant's armored fist swept him away before he could proceed with his plan. He tumbled back to his feet as his facial features wove themselves into a bestial snarl. The elder was about to leap after his foe, when a thought invaded his mind.

Anger had always been the easiest emotion to cling to. The most common one. For several centuries, he had felt nothing but raw hate. It drove his very being. And, the consequences...

* * *

The metal knob of the cross, thrumming with familiar red energy, tore at his side, akin to a snake. He nearly dropped the sword – the blow had paralyzed his entire arm up to the shoulder. He let out a low growl, but his opponent remained unmoved, spinning the chain, obviously preparing to unleash an onslaught of quick, successive blows. Even the slightest of grazes, empowered by shadow magic, could easily shred his muscles.

The vampire dissolved his body into smog, evading the first hit, and crept away from his opponent, buying himself some time to heal. All the wounds, all the pain, shallow and insignificant as they might be, added up, creating a blistering sensation of agony. No, he couldn't die! He couldn't allow this Brotherhood upstart to win!

The dark-haired crusader cursed as the chain retracted back into the combat cross's body without reaching its target. "Get back here!" He yelled on the top of his lungs. "You wretched coward! Face me in fair combat!"

The Prince only began reforming his body when his keen hearing picked up on the whirling sound of the combat chain. The spiked knob passed through the smoke, a few inches from his face and the warmth of the shadow magic stung his skin.

Quickly, his hands seized the white-hot chain. The heat did not bother him – an incarnadine inferno welled up inside of him, granting him strength and filling him with ire. Poor honorable fool. He had made it this far, he had challenged the Lord of the castle to a duel, but in the end, all that awaited him was death.

The stunned look on the soldier's face made him grin. A single powerful tug on the chain, and the combat cross slipped out of the warrior's grasp. And, with it, any hopes of him triumphing over the Dragon.

"Tsk, tsk, they couldn't recreate the Vampire Killer," the Prince chortled as he inspected the weapon. "It seems your darling mother doesn't want to be avenged, boy. The wench should have lent you more power."

But, no, the warrior wasn't quite done yet. He pulled out a short blade from his boot and lunged straight at him. What resilience! Yes, he could certainly use men like this in his ranks. Now, if only every soldier of his legion had the determination of this holy warrior. The Brotherhood would have fallen much faster. Bah, it mattered not. Time was his ally, after all.

"I presume that's the knife you wanted to disfigure my heart with." Dracul sidestepped at the last moment, laughing as the warrior dashed uselessly past him.

Before the man could catch his breath and react, the vampire's claws curled around the soft flesh of his neck. The Lord raised him into the air, flailing him like a puppet as the warrior pawed at his grip. He gasped and choked, blotches of blue surfacing on his face. Soon, when his struggles waned into nothingness and his eyes began rolling into the back of his head, the Prince of Darkness loosened his grasp and let the Order's champion fall onto the floor.

As the boy fought for every single rasping gasp of breath, the vampire took a step closer, twirling the combat cross in his hands.

"Intriguing," Dracul noted, rapping the iron crucifix against his palm. "You're not the first to get past my subordinates, but you're certainly the first one to confront me in person. I'm impressed, and a compliment isn't something I bestow joyously. You've earned my utmost respect, warrior."

"B-burn in Hell, d-devil," the man managed in response, breathing unevenly.

"Oh, I fully intend to, yes." He nodded. "Right after the 't _he sun becomes black as sackcloth_ made of _hair_ , and the whole _moon becomes_ as _blood_.' Revelations, 6:12."

He fully expected for the man to try to tip the scales in his favor one last time. They all did.

The warrior jumped onto his feet, dagger in his right hand aiming for his heart. Dracul effortlessly fended off his clumsy attack, and, in retaliation, plunged the soldier's own weapon deep into his chest.

The crunching sound of the sternum cracking was muffled out by the soldier's blared howl. It tunefully caressed his eardrums, drawing silent comparisons to music. But even the most melodious theme had to be silenced in the end.

Blood gushed out of the warrior's mouth, freckling the vampire's face into a crimson mosaic. The misery, the anguish reflecting in those pale-blue eyes made him smile with delight. He savored the moment, slowly and intensely, just like a gentleman who has just tasted a fine wine. He leaned forward, so close to the fallen knight's face that he could feel his choked, hot breath. Hear his erratic heartbeat.

"In other words," the Prince whispered. "I intend to live forever."

* * *

With every action, a consequence followed.

And when Gabriel met gazes with Alucard, the end product of that predestined battle, all his rage, all the hatred... it just vanished. Instead, a wholly new sensation overwhelmed him. Horrible guilt ravaged his thoughts, uncertainty dulled out his senses. And somehow, he realized the truth behind the Forgotten One's callous words.

All this time, faint murmurs had guided his instincts, offered advice and hinted on what could be done. He hadn't questioned the origins of the whispers, preferring to focus on his mission at hand: to wipe out the treacherous Brotherhood of Light. Too late had he understood the source of these unpleasant thoughts. An idea, a single strand of thought, planted deep into his mind, had sprouted into a completely new image. The castle... the castle had sown the seeds for him to generously water! And, then, it would just reap the fruits of his labor for itself.

"You see it now, don't you?" the archfiend hissed softly, scrutinizing the aftermath of their rather brief fight. "That lash of anger? That was the structure's attempt to seize your mind."

"Wait." Alucard raised his hands, lips pursed in reflection. "You're saying that everything my father has done – all the heinous atrocities, have been orchestrated by the castle?"

"Not all of them." The Forgotten One straightened his back and gave the younger vampire a meaningful glance. "Fury, disgust, rage. They all are standard human emotions. These walls did not conjure them out of nothingness, mind you. It just amplified what he had fel-"

"Enough of these games!" Dracul interrupted the fiend, a frown knitting his brow. "Why are you helping us? Why are you helping _me_? What do you get out of this?!"

"Such hostility." The demon placed his hands on his hips. "Have I not offered you crucial information to help you on your quest?"

"Answer me, now."

"Let's just say, I have nothing to gain if the castle's influence consumes you. Puddles of oily matter overrunning your minions? It will happen to you, Gabriel, if you're not careful. The castle, to quote your Marie, will stop at nothing to hinder your progress... and subdue your mind."

"Subdue my mind?"

"Eradicate. Overtake. Devour." The Forgotten One's tone turned somber. "Its hunger grows with each passing day, baying for blood, for death. You are the only thing which stands between it and the outside world. And now it wishes for the return of the true Lord, who had the led it to prosperity in the first place, so it could submerge the entire era into a war. A genocide which would steal millions of lives."

"It wouldn't dare," Dracul replied. "I am its Lord and Master! It obeys my commands!"

"Did it adhere to your will when you battled the blood fiend?" the archfiend added smugly.

The elder vampire glanced at the floor, gathering his thoughts. He lost himself to reverie, unaware of the passage of time, until the Forgotten One's gruff voice reached his ears.

"As I thought. It has been using you and you had no idea."

"Is there a way to stop the castle's spread?" Gabriel asked quietly.

"None. You can only postpone the inevitable." The demon folded his arms. "Nothing is more powerful than its will – not even your love for your wife and son – and it will possess you in the end."

He shrugged. "You draw your last breath and it dies alongside you. Now, forsaking it without triggering your demise, is a different matter. The influence has entwined with your _soul_. It had formed an unbreakable bond, a prison which you would never escape. However, the Trumpet you seek may have the power to achieve this, yet, it will be severely underpowered in this realm. It will have only one charge."

"Wait, that means..."

"A choice must be made. Either you free yourself from the castle's influence, save this era from a shattering conflict, but sentence your Marie to eternal pain, or you send your beloved to Heaven, lose yourself, and doom the world."

Heavy silence engulfed everyone present and only the distant howling of the wind challenged its rule. A roar of thunder clashed against the skies, announcing the arrival of a storm. Water poured down, hissing and spitting, as it lashed out at the crumbled section of the gallery. An icy gust roused the elder vampire from his contemplation.

"No," he said. "I will not make this decision. I will find another way."

The Forgotten One scoffed without uttering a word. He raised his clawed hand.

Dracul watched his every gesture warily, although, this time, he kept his weapons sheathed.

Violet specters danced through the air, quickly encircling a large slab of rose marble – a fragment of the fiend's inanimate shell. As they waltzed around the stone, its shape began to change. Sharp corners melted away, texture rupturing to reveal a soft, gel-like substance beneath. As the metamorphosis drew to a close, gently, the spirits winked out of existence, leaving a faint trace of glittering dust after them.

A basin stood in the place of the rock. Or, at least, something Gabriel could identify as a basin. It was misaligned, yet, the murky water inside whirled without spilling a single drop. It was encased in a spongy, soft material, twirled into the same curls and swirls he had seen etched onto the Forgotten One's armor. A large, reptilian beast – or, perhaps, simply a decoration – sat hunched on the top of the basin, as the air around it cracked with bursts of green and violet.

The vampires approached the gulf, eying the vortex inside with both curiosity and doubt.

"What is this?" Alucard tore his gaze away from the murky depths.

"This is the Maelstrom," the Forgotten One said. "It will transport you to other dimensions."

"How does it function?" Dracul glanced at the armored demon.

"It's not a portal per se; it weaves its own realm based on one's thoughts and memories."

"And how exactly will it help us, considering the Trumpet's pieces lie scattered across other domains?"

"That's the beauty of it. If it wants to be found by you, Gabriel, when it will locate you."

The elder observed the archfiend, mulling over his words. "If you betray us-"

"I am simply carrying out my portion of the deal and do not mean to deceive you," the Forgotten One said. "You wish to recover the Horn? Hold your breath and take a dip. The Maelstrom will take care of the rest."

The vampire let his gaze linger on the giant a bit longer – he knew much more than he was letting on. It could be a trap, destined to lock him away, but the former knight could not turn his back now. The choice, the information the demon had divulged. All burned in his mind, setting the remaining nerves aflame as well. One part had to be sacrificed to save the other? What sick game are _you_ playing now, Almight-

"Oh, and, Gabriel?" The Forgotten One's tone made him jerk. "Anger feeds the creature within this walls. Remember that."

"Why are you helping me, demon?" Confusion crept into Dracul's voice, no matter how hard he tried to conceal it. "You were the one who had craved the destruction of humankind. You had been the one to wield enough power to actually achieve that. And now, you're _helping_ me to prevent that from happening. _Why?_ What are your motives, beast?"

A quiet laugh escaped the giant's mouth. "I'm investing into our future partnership. Don't let it go to waste... _old friend_. Hah! Always wanted to say that."

* * *

What a peculiar – yet unsettling – sensation.

Gabriel found himself walking at steady pace down a corrugated path, jagged from exact solid blocks of blackness. The Maelstrom's featureless world cloaked him in a shroud of white – the exact shade of Marie's angelic attire – creating a clashing contrast between it and the road. What hadn't been lost in the transitional world of the Maelstrom appeared bleached, devoid of any color. Only his and Alucard's forms retained their vibrancy in this otherwise muted world.

"Remarkable," Alucard mused. "A realm without color. Doesn't have much to look at, does it?"

"Prepare yourselves." The echoing voice of the Forgotten One billowed by them. "The Maelstrom has finished recreating the first portion of the stronghold."

"The strongho-" the elder tried to inquire, but his words were drowned out in a hellish clamor as the dimension started to shift.

As if it were wet sand molded by the joined forces of water and wind, so did cobblestone floors, marble pillars and wooden beams form, rising from the unembellished depths of this domain. The reconstruction of the foundation took only a few seconds, and soon enough the Maelstrom began shaping the various details with painstaking attention.

Dozens of torches illuminated the newly created interior with their soft light: it blurred itself into a warm flux at is crept along the ground. Speckles of dust danced in the sunlight, as it streamed through many great windows of the hallway. It appeared so serene... it was easy to forget a storm raged outside in the _real_ world.

Aside from the two vampires, the hall appeared desolate and silent, interrupted only by indistinct chanting and prayers.

Dracul looked around: images of saints and martyrs – some of which he did not recognize – adorned the walls, a mosaic of a crucifix was inlaid into the stone... A small sigh escaped his throat.

"The Brotherhood." He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Indeed so," Alucard agreed, a note of mild annoyance present in his voice. "And by the looks of it – their headquarters. The one near Budapest."

"Marvelous. Why did the whirlpool put us here?"

The Forgotten One's guttural chuckle resonated off the walls. "Because the place has been knit together from your thoughts," he said. "It's an illusion, a recreation, inhabited by real humans."

"How can a semblance of what is past be populated by living, breathing people?" Gabriel's mouth twitched. "How can it be stored in my memory if I've never been to this citadel before?"

"The same way I can communicate with you without the _holy_ knights noticing _._ " The archfiend practically dripped with sarcasm, but, interestingly, he mocked not the vampire."In any case, the Maelstrom is an extraordinary artifact. You have never set foot in this place, that is true, but the Maelstrom spins its dimensions by recreating events that _could have_ taken place in your life."

Dracul bit his lip. "Beast?"

"I'm listening," the archfiend responded immediately.

"About the Trumpet. What did you mean by 'if it wants, it would find me?' Is it sentient?"

"Expressing doubt, are we? How uncharacteristic of you." The demon gave a priggish laugh. "The Almighty's Mask comes to mind?"

"Just answer my question."

"Sentient? No. But Lucifer went to great lengths to keep it from Heaven's reach. He knew he couldn't take any risks and keep it locked away in Sheol – Hell and Heaven are both in a constant struggle for dominance - so he made it so it would never appear in one spot for long. And, as the Trumpet is celestial in nature, it is inadvertently drawn to a source of light in the current plane. Which is ours. In other words, it will only appear before one of pure heart."

"So, this is a fool's errand once again."

"What makes you say that, Father?" Trevor shifted his shoulders in a lighthearted manner. "On the contrary, I think it is more than possible."

The elder glowered back. " _'Pure of heart,'_ Trevor. My own heart rotted away centuries ago. There is nothing left to salvage."

"Not quite." The white-haired warrior smiled. "It may not be noticeable through your eyes, but to others the change is unmistakable."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Alucard smirked. "Father, your irises are steel gray."

* * *

The vampires ventured towards the faint whispers, the shuffling noise of their footsteps echoing off the stone walls. Not a single living soul, not a single warrior stood in their way – the stronghold might have appeared desolate and abandoned if not for the vague prayers that spilled through the air.

But Gabriel could not care less, even if the citadel had been swarming with Brotherhood soldiers: the Forgotten One's words could not leave his mind at peace.

Pure of heart?

The mythical fawn encased into a silver carapace stood before his eyes. Ah, Pan. The Silver Warrior. A personification of spring, of life. One of the last elder gods who had proudly sacrificed himself to help the former knight fulfill his destiny. To test the purity of his heart, only to witness it char and blacken into a lump he possessed now. Was it at all possible to purge, to cleanse it?

As they walked by dozens of hallways, serpentine corridors, and alcoves, the steady chanting grew in strength – Dracul could already recognize a few spoken words of Latin. But before he could connect them into a coherent sentence, other voices joined the caterwaul, blurring the already obscure communion.

Guided by the chorus, the vampires soon stood before the grand oak gates that no doubt led into the heart of the Brotherhood's compound. Thousands of heartbeats pounded against the elder's eardrums – the main chamber, unquestionably, housing every member of the Order as they gathered in some sort of a ceremony.

"Light draws the Trumpet to this plane," Trevor uttered in a hushed voice. "That's what the demon had said?"

"The Brotherhood is both ignorant and corrupt," the elder murmured in answer. "Their 'light' has long dimmed out. Now only its shadow remain."

"Then we must show it that _we_ are worthy of its attention. Father?"

"Yes?"

"You must promise me." A furrow crossed the younger vampire's forehead. "That you will not take anyone's life whilst out there. I fully understand your frustration, anger at their betrayal, but-"

"Anger and death feeds the creature resting inside the castle walls," Gabriel finished, mouth twitching into a straight line. "You need not worry. I am well past their juvenile antics – in my eyes, the Brotherhood had suffered enough."

A slight smile tugged at Alucard's lips. "Whenever you are ready."

* * *

Once the gates swung open on their groaning hinges, the vampires strode into the amphitheater, paying little mind to the surrounding lesser soldiers of the Brotherhood. After all, they were but pawns in this game of divine chess.

For a second, all chanting ceased, giving way to a startled silence, before the entirety of the Order thundered into a cacophony of shrill screams, cries, and unintelligible wails. The majority beat a hasty retreat, relinquishing their weapons and seeking succor behind the backs of the more tempered men. Ones blessed with bravery – or foolishness – bristled, unsheathing their swords and leveling them at the vampires. Agonized whispers of confusion deluged the audience.

"Is that..."

"By the Father!"

"How did he get past our enchantments?!"

"But the exarch said this fortress was impenetrable!"

"Vile scum!" A familiar voice extinguished the murmurs as a knight donned from head to toe in an ornate golden platemail stepped forward, holding his swords aloft. Roland de Ronceval, the unfortunate paladin – and the alleged Chosen of God – who had invoked the prayer of the Great Explosion all those years ago. "This will be the end of y-"

"Calm yourself, Sir Roland." An elderly man dressed in a black-and-gold mantle and wielding a staff raised his hand forcing the paladin to stop in his tracks. "The rest of you – stand your ground."

"Cardinal Volpe?" Alucard's eyes widened. "He's still alive?"

"He's an accomplished alchemist," Dracul whispered back. "As well as the founder of the thaumaturgy school. No doubt, he has found a way to prolong his life, but not his youth. Interesting."

"Roland is here." The white-haired warrior tensed. "Remember your promise, Father."

The elder nodded wistfully. "I remember."

"Your Eminence!" Roland nearly sputtered. "The fiend has presented himself to us! Why do you hesitate to strike him down? Just give the order!"

"My order is thus: do not attack him, Sir Roland." A hint of steel surfaced through the arch-priest's voice. "That goes for all the others, as well. I'll have no blood shed on this day."

"I-" The paladin inhaled sharply, eyes not leaving his supposed quarry. "A-as you wish," he finally stammered, and his curved sabers slid back into their scabbards with a disappointed hiss.

The soldiers around them glanced at each other, and, one by one, followed the paladin's example, putting away their maces, swords, and axes. Gabriel let out a fleeting sigh. So far, so good.

Another distinguished figure stood behind Volpe's chair. Another paladin, by the looks of him, however this one wore a blue-specked set of armor. A great winged helmet hid his face, and a luxurious red cape cascaded down his shoulders. A familiar harness looped around the warrior's waist. The sheath for a combat cross. It was empty.

"Welcome, Gabriel Belmont." Volpe allowed himself a weak smile. "I have been expecting you. As well as your son."

A faint murmur rustled through the ranks of the Brotherhood warriors, and even Roland arched an eyebrow over his milky-white left eye. Dracul, on the other hand, frowned.

"Haven't we been told he perished almost half-a-millennium ago?"

"He destroyed the Dark Lords."

"His son?"

"The one that had never returned?"

"Your Eminence." The paladin in gold cleared his throat, barely contained hatred evident in his tone. "With all due respect, have we heard you correctly? Did you just address the monster we've been hunting down for _centuries_ by the name of our greatest heroes? The legendary progenitor of the Belmont clan?"

_What._

The cardinal's eyebrows drooped. "Indeed I have." He waved his hand at the ceiling of the chantry. "And by no mistake."

A colorful mosaic, inlaid with stained glass, stared back at Gabriel. Normally, it wouldn't faze him and he would disregard it after a moment's notice, but now, he couldn't tear his eyes away.

Familiar faces of Zobek, Carmilla, and Cornell – the Founders, understandably, surrounded themselves with brilliant halos – were illustrated alongside the Holy Trinity of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. However, in this representation they had assumed different names, the names of their angelic counterparts: Michael, Remielle and Cassiel. In the center of this creation, Gabriel's own image was inset, one of a proud and holy knight, proudly carrying his signature weapon, the Vampire Killer whip. Under the former knight's coat, the metal of his old weapon burned hot against his skin. His own gaze – hooded and pupil-less in the mural – had never felt so heavy. So deprecating.

"As you see." Volpe's voice blared. "The one you knew only under the moniker of Dracul, the Dragon, was once one of us. A mortal man. A hero who had driven the shadows away, only to succumb to the darkness stored deep within our hearts. And the one standing beside him is none other than Trevor Belmont, his son."

"You don't deny that you no longer represent the images of light you believe in so blindly?" Alucard asked, clearly surprised.

"Not at all. We allowed ourselves to be poisoned by the venomous desire to eradicate your father from this earth, Trevor," the cardinal explained. "We had viewed it as our responsibility. We had allowed Gabriel to fall, justified our actions by telling ourselves 'this is for the greater good! Now, the Lords of Shadow and the Forgotten One will never threaten the land again!' We were foolish, and we paid the price with the blood of our companions in full."

"You had sent Trevor after me." Gabriel found the strength to speak. "You had sent my own son to kill me."

Volpe held his gaze, wrinkles on his aged face appearing ever deeper. "When the time came, I, and other elders of the Order, divulged the truth Trevor had every right to know. We had told him who his father was. That is _all._ The young Belmont had set out to confront you on his own initiative."

Dracul glanced at his son – the boy stubbornly refused to make any eye contact, instead focusing his attention elsewhere. No, not now. There were far greater problems at hand.

Speechlessness enveloped everyone in the grand hall, hampered only by the uneven breaths of the soldiers around them. It didn't take long before one of the knights – wearing a commander's outfit – took a wide step forward.

"Your Illustriousness," he said hoarsely. "We had thought that this was all about us being the saviors and killing the beast. Who are we, if not the heroes described in the tales?"

"Yes, what are we fighting for?" A second voice called from the audience.

"My friends, my fellow comrades," the cardinal raised his hands into the air. "I'm sorry I lied to you. About the real identity of our nemesis, about our goals and motives, about everything. There is no such thing as a pure heart. Everyone possesses a grain of darkness, of corruption. But it is our decision, it is in our strength to resist its call, or embrace it."

"Or to ward it off," Gabriel added. "Even the blackest of hearts is streaked with speckles of light."

"That is true, too." Volpe cracked a smile. "There was a reason we gave you that name, Gabriel. When we found you on our doorstep that fateful night. And you know why?"

The vampire bowed his head. "Because... every man has the power to repent." The words rolled off his tongue with unexpected assuredness.

"Aye. Just have _faith_."

The cardinal made his way towards the former knight, the sharpened end of his oak staff clattering against the stone floors. Old and feeble he might appear, but energy practically bubbled in him. Was it really the same man who had sacrificed so many lives? And even after the sudden change of heart, why would others still follow him?

"My Liege," Roland moved after his superior, hands resting on the hilts of his scimitars.

Volpe jerked his head up, and the paladin in gold froze, a grimace of hatred written on his scarred face. The warrior in blue, on the other hand, remained impassive. He did cross his arms still.

"We have made poor decisions in our lives," the cardinal uttered as he approached the vampires. "But, all wrongs can be righted. And I intend to do so. Now, give me your hand."

Gabriel paused, weighing his options. The old man had given the vampire no reason to be wary of him – more so, the former knight felt pleased, hopefulat his actions – yet, he could not shed a strange sensation of unease.

Nonetheless, Dracul outstretched his hand, muscles strained, and the cardinal closed his withered grip around it. His grasp was thin and papery, barely warm.

"This will help you. Now go."

Something sharp scratched against his skin. The elder startled and opened his grip. Several pieces of brass lay spread on his palm, faintly glittering in the torchlight.

"What... what are these?" He rattled the fragments, perplexed.

He raised his head, but only unsettling blankness met his eye. The cardinal, the soldiers, the citadel walls. All crumbled to dust, spread across the four winds, like a sand in a broken hourglass. As if, it had never been there in the first place, devoured by the timeless abyss. _Why?_ Why now? Was this a wicked trick?

The vortex opened its hungry maw.

* * *

"...Must I carry your limp form now?" a low voice rumbled in his ears.

"What in the abyss are you doing?"

"Helping him." Something blunt dug into his side. "I'd let him lounge around all he wanted, except we can't really spare the time."

Dracul let out a soft hiss – his head thrummed with an unfamiliar ache, a pain so lingering that it reverberated throughout his whole body, muscle and bone alike. It made his limbs numb, dull and senseless, a sensation he was used to, but, nevertheless, would like to avoid.

He forced his heavy eyelids open – he was once again in the ruined galleries of the castle, with its icy draft whistling through the gigantic gap in the wall. With its cold stone and crevices filled with darkness. With its undying whispers and pleas. For the first time in many centuries, Gabriel felt only raw disgust towards his 'home.'

"Argh..." he managed, shifting his body into a sitting position – he'd been lying on the ground? "What... is this?"

"A backlash." The archfiend hunched over him, his beady eyes staring into the vampire's. "The Maelstrom had never been used by humans before, so the aftermath can prove to be a little... unpredictable."

"Where's Trevor?"

"I'm here." The wisps of the younger vampire's white hair appeared in his sight. "I was stunned when the Maelstrom expelled us. I'm fine now, but you were unconscious for a while."

"H-how long exactly?" Gabriel rubbed his forehead and rose to his feet.

"Around ten minutes."

"Did you get it?" The fiend watched him with a curious glint in his eyes. "The Trumpet?"

"No," Dracul muttered and gave the fragments clutched in his hand an exasperated glance. The only remembrance of the Maelstrom's domain. "Only these pieces. Volpe said 'they would help me.'"

"Did he, now?" The Forgotten One stroked his chin – or the spot where his chin _would_ be. "That's amusing, considering you hold the fragments of the Celestial Trumpet in your grasp."

The elder arched his eyebrows. The Horn... truly? But it only showed itself to the pure-hearted... "So, it needs to be rebuilt?" He tried keeping his voice steady.

"It appears so, yes." The archfiend guffawed. "Ah, Lucifer, you never make things easy, do you?"

The elder frowned. "You know Satan?"

"I certainly have a history with your long-term opponent. Not a particularly pleasant one." The beast shrugged. "Either way, you acquired the first piece of the puzzle and proof that you, undeniably, are deemed worthy to wield it. You have the mouthpiece; only the pipe and the bell remain."

"Fiend..."

"Yes?"

"Back in the Maelstrom's realm." Gabriel winced – it was difficult to concentrate with the dull pain burrowing behind his eyes. "We met up with the Brotherhood and its leader – cardinal Volpe. He... he had admitted the truth he had concealed for so long. And the soldiers... the paladin, it might appear that they were willing to forgive him, as well as me. How is it possible?"

"It's not." The archfiend was solemn. "The bloody history of your past cannot be erased that simply. Cardinal Volpe would pass away nine months after your conversation, and Roland de Ronceval would seize control over the Order's forces and proclaim himself as the Champion of God. We all know what happened afterward."

"So, there's no hope for the Brotherhood." The vampire sighed. "They would restore their honor, even if humanity's downfall was the cost."

"You cannot force someone to redeem himself." Alucard offered him a pensive smile. "They need to make their journey of atonement on their own."

Dracul peered at the brass shards scattered across his palm, a small smile twitching his lips.


	3. Arrogance of a Fallen

"This is a waste of time." Gabriel grimaced.

"No, this is a safety measure," the Forgotten One responded for the fourth time. "Understand, abusing the Maelstrom in your current condition would be foolish."

"Why do you care about my condition?" The vampire rested his back against the slab that once was a pillar. "You were the one to nearly turn me into a burnt crisp."

"In my defense, I didn't know you'd be desperate enough to tail me across a river of lava. You're the one who's sculpting dimensions at the moment. And domain crafting requires a clear-thinking mind. Heed my advice and get some rest while you still can."

"Are you trying to intimidate me?"

"And here I imagined you would – at least! – stop seeing everything associated with me as a threat. Yet, evidently, acquiring the first piece of the Trumpet was not enough." The archfiend sighed. "The Castle is shaping an army to stop us, Gabriel. Our time of so-called peace is nearing its end. Best savor it." The Forgotten One rose shakily to his feet – his right shin was still missing a chunk of that wiry tissue – and slogged through the debris toward the eastern entrance of the galleries.

"Where are you going?" Alucard sat down beside the former knight.

"I will erect a protective barrier around our current position," the demon replied without turning his head. "It will impede the Castle and buy us enough time to conclude our business with the Trumpet."

"The longer we dawdle, the less time we'll have," Dracul called, staring after the archfiend.

The Forgotten One slammed his hands against the sides of his helmet and kept walking.

"I'm with the demon on this one." The white-haired warrior netted himself a squint-eyed look from his sire. "I mean, if choosing between making out of the Maelstrom alive or becoming trapped within it, I would choose the former. We can allow ourselves some time off." Alucard cleared his throat. "Anyway, while you were blacked out, the Forgotten One had elaborated more on how the whirlpool works."

"Befriending an enemy now?" The elder vampire scoffed and picked up a piece of shattered marble.

"Wouldn't be the first time, either. I had made a deal with you of all people, Father. Not bad, all things considered." A smile creased Alucard's mouth. "Back to the relic. He had told me that the Castle's influence cannot spread inside the Maelstrom. We're plane-hopping, and the Castle's shackled to this one. Thus, it would still be able to feed on your anger, but it won't know what to do with its soldiers."

"We cannot stay in the Maelstrom for too long as evidenced by our previous plunge."

"Yes, and, ah- seeing as the Castle's power is what heals your wounds..." Trevor trailed off.

Gabriel glanced at his son, twirling the stone in his bony fingers.

Alucard frowned. "Our last encounter went swimmingly enough, but something tells me our luck is about to run out."

"I will not let anyone – anything, – claim my life before my mission is completed." Dracul lobbed the shard away. "I will see to it."

* * *

_Elsewhere..._

Marie fidgeted with the embroidered sleeves of her dress. She snuffled. She skittered about the two-storied house. The other resident glared after her, a spoon of oatmeal in hand. His sullen gaze traced her every move. It made her flesh crawl. The woman threw a glance at him and frowned – his right forearm, wrapped in gray, mottled webbing of veins. And he pretended not to take notice, the stubborn lout.

"I'm fine, Marie." He pushed the bowl with the porridge aside. "Stop it."

"Stop what exactly?" She came to a halt, hands clasped loosely behind her back. "This is not going to vanish. It's going to spread. It's going to fester, don't you see?"

"I need to last long enough for him to recover the Trumpet. Then everything will end." His jaw clenched. "Don't make a fuss. I've been through worse."

"No, you haven't," Marie retorted quietly. "You're unwell."

"I'm fine, really."

Marie cast her eyes downward. This was happening faster than anyone could have anticipated and she – blast! – could only sit and watch, without the right to step in. Again! Her hands balled into fists. "It's just- Sorry." She bit her lip, and a single bead of blood ran down her chin. "I lost you once. I don't want to lose you once more."

He tented his fingers together, elbows resting on the varnished surface of the table. "You fear for me, my love, I understand, but at present all we can do is wait."

"Wait? Wait for what? Absolution?" She wiped her mouth.

He got up. "I'll go visit the Knower. If she tells me the plans have changed, you'll be the first to know, alright? I'll ask her about-" he held his mutilated arm, "this too, while I'm at it."

A meek smile pulled at the corners of the Keeper's mouth. "Godspeed."

* * *

The Maelstrom's ghostly fingers molded stone and flesh akin to clay. Sky, buildings, people rose from its depths, primed to serve their purpose.

A gravid moon hung in the starless night, its light caressing all the skyscrapers, all the rooftops of this Neo-Gothic city, like a mother would tend to her young. Pockets of air escaped the vents in the ground with a hiss. Unfamiliar music rumbled from the nearest open window. Cars drove by and carefree chatter could be heard from the streets. The two vampires stood in an alleyway, a garbage container shielding them from the ignorant inhabitants of the city. Paper rustled against their feet.

Odd, but not unwelcome.

"Wygol." Alucard quirked his eyebrow. "An interesting choice."

"I can't control the Maelstrom, Trevor." Dracul looked about, fascinated. Then he snorted. "Interesting! The city looks different from our last visit. It's full of life."

The neon signboards and sparkling lampposts were the first things to draw the elder vampire's attention. During Lucifer's invasion the disease-ridden streets wallowed in waste and monsters walked the earth unimpaired. That legion of demons had forced people into hiding, spread chaos and destruction whenever they went. Now, the distant bustle of men and women cheering reminded him why the human race was the most adaptive of all. Even centuries under his tyrannical rule could not crush their ancestors' spirit. Then again, according to the books in the Wygol library – he nabbed a few after everything was said and done – Dracul had been reduced to nothing more than a legend, a fairytale parents told to keep their disobedient children in line.

"Probably because the Acolytes were still making preparations." The younger vampire glanced from around the garbage container. "I heard they were on the prowl in 2037, you know. Couldn't quite engage them as all three hung out together. Plus, I had a full-time job."

"You had a job?"

"Yes." Alucard smiled and rapped a bent finger against his chestplate. "Spying on Zobek's lackey."

"Hah, fair enough. Speaking of Zobek, what did he do in my absence?"

"Scavenged what scraps of power he could, the usual. Either way, he didn't bother me." He picked up a weather-stained newspaper off the ground. The font was faded, but legible. "I was right. This dates March 15th, 2021."

Dracul rubbed the nape of his neck. "We still need to acquire the fragments of the Horn. Any suggestions?"

"Well, if I remember correctly, the Castle's foundations are yet to be unearthed completely. I mean, it was a daunting task on its own – archaeologists from all over the world had lent a helping hand. I'd search for answer there."

"You think the Demon will be passive?" Gabriel asked.

"In the Maelstrom, I hope so."

The elder vampire borrowed a second to think. "Wait, I might have something. The Throne Room, was it dug up by 2021?"

"What was left of it? Hmm." Alucard crossed his arms. "I don't think so. Some speculated you might be hiding there, waiting for them to come to you."

"Unsurprising. I imagine this belief was quite widespread." He clicked his tongue. "Anyway, the Throne Room. Do you remember that secret alcove behind the throne itself? Where the Travel Book is held? It got me out of a tight spot yesterday, so I thought it might help us again."

"It might!" His son beamed. "Let's give it a go."

As they walked down the narrow street, away from the nighttime hubbub, Dracul let his thoughts wander. He stroked the dull brickwork of a wall. It didn't add up. Why would someone found a colony here, in the heart of barrens, encircled by a mountain range? The memorials portrayed him as a ruthless, vicious despot, looking down on everyone, including his own subordinates. Though, it was oddly refreshing to know some had banished him to myth and legend.

On the other hand, to be disregarded completely... that was the most gruesome fate of all. Some had managed to die a hero, others ascended as a villain, but not to be recognized at all? Could it have happened to the Forgotten One? Clearly, that wasn't his name, if he even possessed one. The demon must have deserved his unflattering alias for a reason.

"That would be none of your business." The archfiend's voice thundered around them, making the elder lose footing for a second.

"You're reading my thoughts?" Dracul growled as he recovered.

"Guilty as charged. You wouldn't blame me for being a tad cautious."

"Oh? Are you afraid that _I_ might deceive _you?_ How uncanny." The vampire guffawed.

"I'm hedging my investment, nothing more," the demon replied. "But, yes, I can read minds. Can appraise souls, too. And yours is – as before, – highly unusual."

"Corrupted by the Castle's Demon, I know."

"No. That's not it."

Gabriel blinked. "What do you mean?"

The Forgotten One breathed in. "Your soul resembles a patchwork of many, many contrasting parts, coated with, you are correct, Bernhard's influence. That influence acts as an adhesive agent, of sorts. Remove it, and your soul splits up, killing you."

His lips crimped, and he decided to change the topic. "Care to answer my earlier question? What is your name?"

"You can call me Ikay."

"Ikay? That's your true name?"

"My true name, in your human dialect, is thirty-eight syllables long. Ikay is just two of them."

"All right, Ikay it is," Dracul said. "Now go away."

"Fine." Ikay's voice started to fade. "I'll leave you to your quest then."

* * *

The trip to the Throne Room was... exciting, to say the least. They wound up doing something Dracul did not expect – walking. Not sneaking, but walking. Without a disguise. Alucard had explained that they've 'arrived' at an opportune time; it was a city-wide anniversary festival of the Chupacabra. Kids and adults like were running about, dressed in rags and wearing outlandish masks. The streets were abuzz with singing in spite of late hour. No one paid attention to the passing vampires. Well, maybe a few did – Gabriel could have sworn he heard words "an amazing cosplay" aimed at him. When he had inquired Trevor about it, his son merely laughed.

The belfry's giant resident knelled eleven times when the vampires reached their destination. The area was lined by a fence, but it proved to be a minor inconvenience for them and their mist forms. Tents, excavators and innumerable footprints in the earth, all told that this site was being steadily, systematically studied.

When the pair stopped by the collapsed section of a balcony, Dracul couldn't help but glance over the stirring city.

If asked a day before Satan's second coming, when he had holed himself up in one of the city's many churches, he would have said that redemption couldn't have been achieved. A monster, who stopped behaving like one, is still a monster. And the city, built on the remnants of his Castle, reflected his statement wholeheartedly. Dirty and cloaked in gloom, like the building's owner.

Now, the bright colors and merry singing, coupled with the first shard of the Celestial Trumpet hidden beneath his coat, made him review his earlier statement. He would find a way to save both his beloved and mankind. Humanity, despite all its flaws and past mistakes, would live on.

And, despite their hurry, one question bloomed in the elder vampire's mind.

"Trevor," he said, eyes not leaving the picturesque cityscape. "Had Volpe told me the truth about you? That the Brotherhood had nothing to do with your crusade against me?"

Alucard hesitated. "Yes. That's true." A wrinkle crossed his brow. "I felt... as if it was my obligation. That I must be the one the destroy you. Because of Mother and her death at your hands."

"I seek neither forgiveness, nor sympathy for that atrocity, yet I feel the need to tell you that I had not done so voluntarily. You know me well enough by now to understand – I'd never allow any harm to come to Marie, let alone hurt her myself."

"I do realize that." Alucard nodded. "Still why did you do it?"

"The deceased Lord of the Dead had used an artifact to control me. To use me as a meat puppet to further his own goal. And to set his plan in motion, I needed, as he had so eloquently put, a nudge." Gabriel pursed his lips. "Well, at least now you know why he needed to die."

"Indeed. From the years I had spent spying on both Zobek and his elusive Lieutenant, I gathered they were not the most pleasant lot. What was that artifact?"

"It's called the Devil Mask. It grants the possessor great power, but subjects them to Satan's will. I recovered it in the Necromancer's Abyss all those centuries ago, but after all that happened I couldn't just leave it laying there. I threw it away in disgust and hadn't seen it ever since. But enough dwelling on the past. Better concentrate on the present."

"It's okay," the Wolf said. "Even the wisest of us makes mistakes."

"But my weakness had robbed Marie of her life." The former knight sighed.

"Mother has found a way to reunite with us. You cannot underestimate her determination." Alucard's words rang with sincerity, yet were poisoned with concealed envy. Trevor's own loving wife – a redhead by the name of Sypha who had died on the same night as the Brotherhood Champion – could not find them as Marie did.

Gabriel's voice cracked. "I- I am aware of the part I had played in your Sypha's passing. And I wish to make amends for that. I cannot offer anything substantial... but would you accept my apology?"

"What? Ughm, yes, thank you." A smile quirked Trevor's blackened lips.

The elder grinned in response.

* * *

The inside of the Throne Room antechamber appeared exactly as he remembered. Well, save for the non-existent ceiling and curtains of lacelike spiderweb hanging off the walls. A steel sheet was thrown over the gap in the floor and the Brotherhood's battering ram had been wheeled to the side. The siege machine might not have drawn the vampires' attention, but an opening, cut in the decorated door, sure did. It was large enough for a human to fit through.

They glanced at each other. Alucard, with his hand on Crissaegrim's hilt, led the way. Dracul, on the other hand, refrained from drawing any weapons. He preferred not to spill any blood and nourish the only thing he wanted to stay away from. Even if that meant fueling his own being. A vampire lived off the existence of others, killing and butchering in order to survive. He was no exception.

A serene calm ushered them through the Throne Room, interrupted only by the occasional chirp from the rafters. Bats or some vermin. Footprints marked the floor – a group of several people must have been here. The trespassers had spent some time examining his throne and the glass window behind it. Now it lay shattered. Gabriel frowned and misted into the room where the Book was.

"It's gone?" He glowered at the empty base.

Alucard peeked over his father's shoulder. "Whoever is here with us, it's clear they're after the book, too. I'd advise cau- What the-"

The elder swiveled on his heels. A dozen of disfigured, lesser vampires littered the corridor to the outdoors, their grisly faces staring into nothingness. Some were disemboweled across the abdomen, others had multiple gunshots. The one leaning against the farthest wall had ragged wounds spread all over its body.

Bloody lacerations inflicted by a whip or a spiked chain.

Beside him, Alucard snorted. "There's a Belmont in the Castle."

* * *

Their stay within the dilapidated Throne Room had been a brief one and, far sooner than either of them had anticipated, they emerged back into the streets of Wygol. Or rather back into the archeological site, their mist forms muffling their steps. Several voices echoed around them, allowing for Dracul to pinpoint their source. Right in front of them, but walking away. They were oblivious to the vampires around the corner.

The prospect of meeting another Belmont had left a sour aftertaste in his mouth. The last survivor of the bloodline – Victor – had forfeited his own life to allow Gabriel to go on with his mission. Did he have to die? Did the family tree deserved to be cut down after so many generations? Or – perhaps, just perhaps – there was a way to save him, lure out the second acolyte in some other way? What past is past, Gabriel knew it far better than anyone else, but he couldn't help but brood, imagine alternative paths and scenarios where the last Belmont would have lived to tell the tale of Satan's return.

"-are you following him?" A squeaky tone made him jerk.

"Somewhat." An accented voice reached out for Dracul's ears. "That sonuvabitch's being a sonuvabitch, though." A low thudding sound. "His spectral trail's messing with my instruments. One second there's a clear signal, and the other it's as if something's fiddling with my tracker from inside."

"No one said hunting a demon is gonna be easy," a gruff voice followed. "And back there? Did you find everything you needed, Eve?"

"Yup." The woman – Eve? – seemed distraught. "Ugh, let's get out of here. If Azazel pounces on us here, we ain't gonna have the home field advantage."

A gentle hum. "You heard the lass."

"Albeit, guys – and gals! – let's face it! Slaying vampires is fun."

"You've a warped definition of fun, Nicolas."

"Really? Those savages were pushovers in my opinion. I expected more from them."

"Those were measly underlings, Hammer, the lowest caste of vampires. The first ones to go mad."

"Save this discussion for later. Now, we need to get to the HQ and study this book."

Gabriel glimpsed from around the corner. A party of five was headed toward the throng in the distance. Their leader had the crimson-bound Travel Book clutched in her hands. Her friends bracketed her from each side.

"Do you see it?" Alucard's lips moved, yet barely a whisper escaped.

"Yes." Dracul gave a brief nod. "The woman in the lead, she has it. Do you know her?"

The white-haired warrior shook his head. "No, I did not wrangle with the Brotherhood all that much. But, if she's a Belmont, maybe we should consider a non-violent approach. Could we tail her and retrieve the book in this manner?"

"They're attempting to cover up their tracks and we can't let them blend in with that crowd." The elder scrutinized the withdrawing party. There was something odd about it, and not because of the Belmont. Unease swept over him, and Gabriel startled.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he replied. "Let's go, before we lose them-"

The high-pitched whirr of a dagger cut him off, and he sprang back just in time. Sure, he might have shoved Alucard in the armor-clad stomach – hurting himself – but at least he avoided a knife to his throat. The bejeweled dagger zipped past and lodged itself in the stone. Dracul watched it for a few seconds, stunned, before an imperious voice reached him.

"Come out! We've been trained to find out when we're being spied on!"

"They're giving us a chance to give up," Alucard said, mouth curling into a small smile.

"This is perfect!" Dracul beamed. "Now we can talk."

The vampires emerged from their little hideout, placing themselves in the forefront. He could hear their hearts skip a beat in perfect unison. Without a doubt, these Brotherhood soldiers knew who he was. The leader's – Eve, he reminded himself – posture stiffened.

"Oh, what the shi-" she cursed.

"Yes," he uttered, giving Eve a lopsided smile. "Now we can talk."

The oppressive silence gave way to click and snap of gun barrels being leveled at him.

"Just talk!" Dracul's smile vanished. "I'm not here to fight you or your friends."

Eve. Tall – oh, she seemed to be a tad taller than the vampire himself, – dressed in a crimson leather jacket, trimmed with silver, and a pair of jet-black pants with its legs tucked into iron-bound boots. A dark undercut framed her face and brown eyes twinkled from under the fringe. A rifle was slung over her shoulder, and a sheath with the combat cross wrapped her around the waist. An amulet with intricate insignia hung from her neck. From the looks alone, Gabriel could safely say that she was, indeed, related to him.

"Hmph!" Her jaw set. "And we're expected to believe that."

"Eve-!" one of the men peeped. "It's the Dragon! And the Wolf! They're real! The ones who-"

"I know very well who they are," the woman returned. "I don't need a history lesson, Linus."

Next to Eve, a giant of a man huffed, unconvinced. "Dracul is a dead legend. What makes you think it's not some bloodsucker disguised as him? To throw us off guard?" The safety on his engraved shotgun was off. "He must be the one who sicced all those freaks on us."

"Out of the question," said the slender, hooded person in the back, the only one unarmed. "On the disguise part, more or less. No one would dare to impersonate the Prince. But- is that really Alucard? With him?" He tilted his head. "Eve, can you ask Hammer to lower the gun? Shooting is just gonna provoke him."

"Do as he asks, Hammer. He's immortal. There's nothing we can do."

Linus cleared his throat. "Plus, I have a sneaking feeling that if he wanted us dead, we'd be six feet under already."

"I thought, well, the Dragon was a personification of rage and hate," a woman with ash-blonde hair added. "And that, like all vampires, he had crimson eyes, not grayish-blue. Aulm, are you sure that's him?"

The man named Aulm nodded. "I'm sure."

"I'm sorry to chime in," Gabriel said, "but I can assure you all. I am quite real. So is Alucard."

Eve frowned. "What do you want, Prince of Darkness?"

"I want you to hear me out."

"Okay, we'll listen. If you answer one question."

"What is it?" He smiled.

Eve gaped at him, incredulous. Then she shrugged. "Did you command the vampires we fought off in the ruins?"

"No."

"He's lying." Hammer bared his teeth. "He's their Lord!"

"Hammer's got a point," the blonde said with a grim twist to her mouth. "He'd created them, hadn't he?"

"Not those ones," Aulm rebuked to Dracul's amazement. "Those mongrels reproduce among themselves, therefore the Prince has no sway over them. Only four known vampires were sired directly by the Dark Lord, and one of them is standing right beside him."

The corners of Eve's lips quirked. "All right then. Your feedback appreciated, Aulm. As always."

Gabriel waved his surprise aside. "Long story short: I'm rebelling. We need the book you're carrying."

"I kinda figured as much," the woman hummed as she neared. "My name's Eve, by the way. And these are my friends: Linus, Bogomir 'the Hammer', the blonde's Olga. She and Hammer are family. And that's Aulm, our informant on all things supernatural. Together we call ourselves the Innocent Devils, an elite group of demon hunters."

"And my reputation precedes me." The elder cracked a smirk. "Pleased to meet practical folk at last."

"Practical? Is that because I did not attack you on sight?" She handed the tome to its owner.

"Perhaps." Dracul accepted the offering. "You're a Belmont, are you not?"

Eve's hand traveled to the iron crucifix strapped to her hip. "Yup. Current Commander of Brotherhood of Light, Eve Belmont." She curtsied. "I, of course, knew you were still at large, very much alive. Still, excuse me if I sound flustered. To be talking with the mortal enemy of your clan is unsettling."

"You have no reason to fear us," Alucard was quick to reassure her.

"Thanks, Wolf. Me, and this city, would like to thank you for everything you've done over the years."

"What can I say? I love my job." The younger vampire grinned.

"Why did you take the book?" The elder put the volume away.

"Ain't gonna lie," Eve responded after a pause. "I thought your memories might help me deal with a little problem of mine. A demon is harassing mankind and we don't know how to defeat him."

"A demon?"

"Yup, he calls himself Azazel."

Dracul folded his arms. "Azazel? Isn't that one of the angels who was banished from Heaven together with Lucifer?"

"It would seem. Now he's an arrogant fiend who revels in pain and suffering he inflicts." Eve's voice turned raw. "Slimy bastard."

"Indeed," added Olga. "We've lost so many to that monster."

"Don't fret." Hammer rested his gloved hand on his sister's shoulder. "We'll get that beast sooner or later."

"Father." Alucard tapped the elder vampire on the shoulder, drawing his attention. "You know how to deal with demons. Satan, the Forgotten One, Abaddon. We should help her."

"What about the Trumpet?" Dracul hissed in response.

"It hasn't found us yet, so we've got some time. Best entertain ourselves while we wait."

"All right." He nodded after some thought. He faced Eve. "We will help you."

"Just like that? Without anything in return?" She smirked. "Thanks."

"I take great pleasure in bringing former angels to justice." The elder vampire shrugged.

"You'll have an opportunity to prove that, Gabriel, but now- duck!" the commander screamed as a semitransparent wave of green fire washed over them.

The infernal heat brushed against Gabriel's back. Normally, it would not bother him – the Dragon feared nothing he could not command and fire was his protege – but these flames reeked of Hell itself. The heat set the very oxygen in their lungs ablaze. Whilst neither of the vampires could suffocate, the same couldn't be said about Eve and her companions. A quick, agonizing death was waiting for them.

Dracul whirled on his heels, fingers curling around the hilt of his bound blade. Its empty chill crooned its symphony as it battled the horrid inferno. The blizzard spawned by the weapon chased the fires away, freeing the group and leaving a blackened circle in the soil. It took everyone a few moments to catch their breaths.

"Is everyone alright?" The elder looked over the group in question.

Eve pushed the singed hair out of her eyes." Azazel and his tricks. He's here." She stepped out of the circle, combat cross ready. "Dammit, angel, come and face us!"

"I'm not hiding, you insufferable little Belmont." A chattering noise, roughly resembling human speech, echoed above them.

A goat-like creature was hunched down on the pile of debris some distance away from the group. The demon had an emaciated humanoid body and a skinless equine head. His arms were bifurcated at the elbow into two, shoulders were lined with spikes, and one of his eyes was lime-green with a misshapen pupil. A milky-white cataract covered his other. He could not boast of the same brawny physique as his deceased kin – the creature's limbs were scrawny at best, and a short, segmented tail flicked from side to side. He did have the same gleaming bladder as other soldiers of Satan.

The fiend jumped down from his perch and took several steps in their direction, jet-black hooves scraping against the gravel path. Again, unlike other greater demons, Azazel appeared only a few inches taller than the former knight. His mismatched eyes lingered on Gabriel's face a bit longer than the rest of the group.

"Bah," the demon chirped, "why, isn't this the archrival of my Overlord! Gabriel, was it not? Since when does the Dragon hobnob with such... a questionable company?"

"Azazel," the elder growled through clenched teeth.

The creature snorted. "I'm delighted to make your acquaintance."

"Careful around him," Eve muttered. "He's a crafty bastard. One I've been waiting to waste with bated breath."

"Oh, please!" Azazel placed all of his arms on his hips. "As much as I adored toying with you, I'm afraid you're no longer my priority, harlot. I've been dispatched to find and eliminate the Dragon in case those thickheaded Acolytes couldn't."

Gabriel's eyebrows rose. How could the demon know of the Acolytes' failure?

"Don't look so cross, Gabriel. I know we're all stuck in the Maelstrom," the beast continued, "did that colossal buffoon not tell you? We firstborn angels are aware of this wonderful device of his. I likewise know Lucifer's offspring will die trying to destroy you. Good riddance, I never liked them. Now this falls to me." Azazel's toothy smile stretched wider. "I will snuff your unlife out like a candle."

"You can try." He leaned forward, digging the tip of his sword into the soil.

"Rest assured, vampire, I will. I'm not like those brain-dead cretins you've fought before. I'm something much more polished. So, if you're curious about the Trumpet, follow me!"

"What do you know of the Trumpet?" Alucard demanded.

"Oh, you mean this, Wolf?" Azazel opened one of his three-fingered palms. A single piece of brass lay in the center of it. "Just a part of the much larger trinket." The demon guffawed and the fragment vanished in a swarm of green sparks. "You want it? Come. Defeat me, if you can." The former angel let out a shrill laugh and scuttled away, heading deeper into the holds of the collapsed Throne Room tower.

Dracul's lips pulled back. He would've leaped after the demon, but a light hand seizing his shoulder stopped him. Just as he lost Azazel's trail, the earth began to quake. Acid bubbled into view, forming puddles which ate away everything it came into contact with. The elder – fortunately – was fast enough to leap backwards and avoid the noxious matter.

He turned around, expecting Alucard to be standing behind, but instead saw a hood. Aulm's runty figure. Dracul glowered, but Eve's companion remained adamant, his hand resting against the vampire's shoulder. The informant was almost two heads shorter than him, but his bravery was admi- Wait. Humans could not possess reddish eyes! Reddish? A memory clicked in his brain.

"Krait?!"

The man startled at the exclamation, an odd flush creeping across his cheeks. After a pause, he pulled his hood down. 'Aulm' was of obvious Eastern ancestry, his skin a washed-out gold. He had medium-long black hair, pulled into a bun, save for a few strands with gaudy baubles woven in. Piercings beaded his ears, brows and nose. Reddish-orange irises glittered in the darkness. A child of night. Moreover, a child of night he himself had created!

Dracul stared back. "But... How?"

Eve's companion gave a sheepish smile, revealing two rows of pearly-white, shark-like teeth. "I can explain, my Prince."

"Azazel's fireworks would have attracted a whole lot of attention." Linus looked over his shoulder at Wygol's crowded streets. "We need to go. Before the riot police comes to investigate."

"Linus is right. Gabriel, no offense, but any reunions will have to wait till later." Eve patted Aulm- Krait on the arm. "We can't let Azazel escape. Not again."

"I will explain- later," the youngest of the three vampires righted himself. "Eve!"

"You heard the woman, let's go, let's go!"

Dracul nodded, solemn. An explanation was in order, but he had to put Azazel and the Trumpet first. The tale of how one of his most trusted lieutenants survived the Great Explosion and ended up with the Brotherhood and the Belmonts could wait.

* * *

Once the path had been cleared, the Innocent Devils and the vampires alike re-entered the vaults. While trudging through the halls and following the faint spectral trail left by the demon, Alucard allowed himself to take a closer look at the group. The remainder of the one time glorious Brotherhood of Light.

The Wolf shifted his gaze from the Brotherhood commander to the roguish vampire. He wasn't entirely sure what to think. A Belmont, a zealous monster hunter, befriending a creature of the night? A vampire that once had been his father's accomplice? Ludicrous. And yet Eve seemed at ease around her undead friend. And if he remembered correctly, something like this had already happened. Gabriel had referenced siding with Carmilla's adopted daughter on the Church's roof.

Alucard could see why Krait would fit in with the Brotherhood. Unlike those he had slain during his many-century campaign against his father, this vampire lacked the same bloodthirsty glint in his eyes. No hatred, no malice. Quite the opposite, Krait conveyed an impression to have subdued his bestial nature. Or that he had it buried. Deep enough to hide from its pain.

"I thought I had memorized the entire Castle and its inhabitants," Alucard said, "but I don't recall your face. Who are you?"

Krait hummed. "I'm one of your father's second-in-command. The _crème de la crème_ of the vampiric society, so to speak. The Knaves of Darkness, he'd call us. We oversaw things while you were away."

"We?" The white-haired warrior frowned. "Ah, yes, I remember you mentioning there were others."

"Uh huh." The other vampire nodded. "I was the one in charge of surveillance and reconnaissance." He trailed off. "Oh! Ah, hello, my Prince. It's good to see you in person."

Alucard looked over his shoulder to see his father catch up with them, arms folded across his chest. "I believe you owe me an explanation, Krait."

"I believe I can give you one," Eve offered. "After that two-faced paladin 'defeated' you, the forces of darkness began to die out. So, Krait got in touch with the what was left of the Brotherhood and pledged his life to the Belmont clan. He's been our adviser ever since and his knowledge on vampires had proved priceless."

"Fine, but how did you survive the Great Explosion?"

"Just before the Castle was overran, you ordered your troops to hold their ground. You said, 'we shouldn't concern ourselves with the Brotherhood.' So we hid. Don't you remember, my Lord?"

"Right. I did say that, didn't I?" The elder kneaded his chin. "That would justify it."

"If I'm being honest, I feared the moment of our impending reunion." The Knave avoided eye contact. "I remember how you punished those guilty of disloyalty and treason, my Liege. But when you said you were rebelling, I thought-"

"Pay no mind to it." Dracul gave a throaty laugh. "I have no interest in disciplining you. I'm on a mission and can't let such trivialities bother me. Not that they do. You've always been the most kindhearted of the Knaves."

"Th-thank you." A slow smile crept across the rogue's mouth. "May I ask what business are you attending to? Perhaps I can help."

"Yup, let's hear it." Eve drummed her fingers against her leg. "What's so special about some brass? And what is this Maelstrom Azazel prattled about? It must be important. Cuz, and I'm sure you noticed, the guy's leading us into a trap."

"That piece is what we seek. It's a part of a fractured artifact," Dracul returned.

"What, like the God Mask?"

The vampire made a face. "I hope not."

Eve must have noticed his discomfort. "Oh, sorry. That was exceptionally insensitive of me."

"It's fine." He looked her in the eye. "If Azazel wants to fight us on his own terms, then so be it. That won't save his hide. Still, if I were in your shoes, I'd send your friends off. Krait included."

"Afraid they'll get in your way? My friends are more than capable of-"

"No," was the solemn answer. "I don't want to see him turn them against us."

Alucard pressed his lips together. It wasn't hard to guess which incident did Dracul just refer to. "Father, I would really rather not-"

"I'm not blaming you, son. I'm citing a fact."

"Are you sure of this, my Prince?" Krait argued. "I can be of service to you yet."

"No offense, lad, but you're no fighter. I've seen you collapse in the field."

"Your sire's right, pal." Hammer nodded, shotgun thrown over his shoulder. "You just ain't got the guts for bloodshed."

The Knave pouted. "You keep belittling me, Bogomir, and I'm centuries older than you!"

"Krait, I'm serious," Dracul murmured, "I appreciate your enthusiasm, but this isn't your fight. Go with them. That's an order."

"But-!" The youth's shoulders sagged. "Aye-aye, sir."

Eve rewarded the vampire lord with a steadfast stare. After some seconds, she leaned in and whispered something into Krait's ear. The informant's amber eyes darted towards his sire and he gave the woman an affirmative nod. Another question – another brief bow of the head.

"Okay." Eve straightened her back. "Aulm- Krait says that all the stories were not exaggerated. That you indeed are as powerful as people described you in the books. And you know what? I believe him." Her lips twitched into a smirk.

"I saved your life back there," Gabriel said. "I thought that effort would be enough to prove my worth as a soldier."

"And can you truly turn into a dragon? Or is it gossip?"

The Dragon turned to look daggers at his distant relative. Trevor masqueraded his laugh as a barking cough, netting himself a squint-eyed glance from his father. Eventually, a cocky smile found its way onto his face. "No," he jeered, "people hallucinate when they're afraid."

"What? Hey, sarcasm ain't nice! Consider my point of view. Not every day you get to meet with your so-called dead ancestor who's a bloody dragon." Eve waved her hand. "Roar! Expect him to terrorize innocent men, women and children, but discover he's a nice guy underneath all that skin. Preposterous."

* * *

It took around five minutes for Eve to coax the Innocent Devils into leaving her. At first, her associates resisted, but their objections were cut short. She had to confront Azazel one last time.

Dracul did not dissuade her. He knew well enough how determined the members of his bloodline could be. If Eve wanted to settle a score the demon, she would have it no other way. Nonetheless, he could relate to her. From what he gathered, Azazel had done something to Eve's husband, Dominique. He turned him into a vegetable, Krait clarified, and now he spent his days in the care of the Brotherhood. Within the walls of the church named after his lineage where others could pray for his wellness. That would never be.

"Don't worry about me." The woman said as her hand closed around the hilt of her combat cross. "I've got a beast to slay."

The elder sighed. This was such a case of deja vu.

* * *

The Mirror of Fate chamber.

He didn't know why he kept referencing it thus – the Mirror shattered when Simon administered the death blow all those centuries ago. Pulverized by the Great Explosion, its enchanted remains became Dracul's symbol of sorrow. The accursed thing had been one of the reasons behind Marie's death, the room in which it had been mounted had become Trevor's tomb-

And this was the place where Azazel had chosen to face them. But just like with that Mirror, he would not let the monster deter him.

As the trio entered the chamber, rimmed with statues of angelic warriors, they saw him. Azazel had his back turned on them. The creature's bony fingers ran along the edges of a stone casket in a slow, almost adoring, manner. Out of the corner of his eye Dracul could see Alucard shiver.

"At last, you're here," Azazel drawled, pivoting. "I was beginning to think you got lost in your own Castle, Gabriel." His lips quirked in a smug smile. "Oh, I see you brought the girl with you. Guess you did not learn your lesson, huh, Prince of Darkness? Marie, Claudia, Laura. How many more must die before you understand? None of them would shed a tear should you pass away."

"Return the piece," the elder vampire declared.

The fiend clasped his hands behind his back. "Can't. So sorry. I sent the piece to Satan."

"He's lying through his goddamn teeth," Eve growled. "He has it."

"I guess. Low stakes aren't fun. You should know this, Belmont."

"Shut your mouth, you self-conceited swine!" the commander yelled, spit flying.

Azazel guffawed. "Did I touch a raw nerve? Tsk-tsk. Know this, human. Your beloved's sanity won't come back to him. It is my magic. It lingers, it builds, it worms into your mind. A waking nightmare. That is all you, curs, deserve for opposing my Lord." He turned his seeing eye to Dracul. "You in particular."

He clicked his fingers, and a strange, wafer-thin object materialized in his hand. It was gray, jagged, holes gaped where eyes should have been. Breath caught up in Gabriel's throat and, despite his immense willpower, he took a small step backwards. Both Trevor and Eve looked back at him, eyes wide and distressed.

The demon flourished his prize, chest thrust-out. "Good to see you still remember this special item. The Devil Mask. The very thing that made you commit that terrible murder. You shouldn't litter with relics like this, vampire. Someone might find it, you know, someone might use it against you. Again."

Then he lunged forward without warning.

_No one defies the rightful Prince of Darkness and lives!_


End file.
